A Fistful of Dragons
by harrypanther
Summary: Wild-West style AU. The town of Berk is ruled by two warring gangs-the Outcasts and the Berserkers. A stranger rides in on a lame dragon; sarcastic and out for all he can get with a dark past. When a government convoy arrives with an elusive trapped Night Fury, everyone has their eyes on the beast…
1. A New Man in Town

**DISCLAIMER: The rights to How to Train Your Dragon remain with Cressida Cowell and Dreamworks. "A Fistful of Dollars' (1964) is a copyrighted work distributed by United Artists and is based on the film 'Yojimbo' which I have never seen.**

 **A/N:** **Wild West-style AU.**

 **Based partially on 'A Fistful of Dollars' starring Clint Eastwood (the sexiest man in a poncho)**

 **The idea came to me while watching 'A Fistful of Dollars', definitely one of the greatest Westerns of all time and one of my favourites. Admittedly there were fewer dragons and more men being shot when I last watched it but I could just see the Man With No Name having green eyes, auburn hair and severe sarcasm. Of course, this story deviates quite a bit from the cinematic work but that's all part of the fun. And I always felt the idea of two gangs fighting for control of the town was worth exploring as well...**

 **Anyway enjoy. And no, I am still not giving up on any of my other fictions!-hp**

 **One: A new man in town.**

The echoes of the shot died away as the solid thud of the body hitting the ground sounded. The wind sent a swirl of dust over the new corpse, the unfired pistol dropping from his limp hand. With a satisfied smile, the killer holstered his weapon and gave a small crazed laugh.

"Nobody calls me Deranged!" he shouted.

"Um...you call _yourself_ Dagur the Deranged!" his brother, Savage pointed out.

"Nobody else is allowed to..."

"Well, you always like us to..." his other brother, Vorg, added.

"So nobody except me and my brothers..."

" _And_ the men, don't forget them..." Savage added. Dagur the Deranged rolled his pale green eyes, rolling his powerful shoulders impatiently. Sheathed in black, he looked every inch the villain...until you glanced at his two yak-brained siblings.

"So nobody except me, my brothers _and the men-_ thank you _,_ brother _-_ are allowed..."

"Er what about Astrid..."

"Well, that goes without saying..."

"And Dragonmaster Fishlegs?" Vorg piped up.

"Good point..."

"Mayor Stoick?"

"Alvin the Treacherous?"

"Those idiot twins?"

"The town council?"

"RIGHT! _No one_ except me, you, the men, Astrid, Fishlegs, our enemies, the town council, the towns _people_ AND that old crone out on Ravens Point Butte-before you bring that up, Savage, I could see you-are allowed to call me 'Deranged'!" Dagur was simmering with rage. The people of Berk were hard-wired to argue about _everything._ It made running the town _very_ trying. "My point is that HE didn't have permission to..." He did a double take. Where he had gestured was empty: the corpse was gone. "And where the Hel did he go?" he shouted.

"Um...while you were arguing...sorry, correcting our stupidity...those idiot undertaker twins took the body!" Vorg explained. Dagur growled, straightened his black hat over his short carrot hair and stalked off back towards the compound. The dragons were howling and it was getting close to feeding time: maybe checking the profits from the last dragon auction would cheer him up.

At the far end of the plaza, Young Gustav was already scrubbing out the number by the town population figure and reducing it by one. It was just another normal day in Berk...

oOo

Dust swirled in the face of the stranger as he slowly rode towards the isolated town. He was out of money, out of luck and definitely out of friends as he felt Redwing limp. The dragon was willing and loyal but he was old, lame and unable to fly due to a damaged wing. With a sigh, the stranger swept his forest green gaze over the ramshackle collection of buildings and hoped they would have a dragon master...or at least dragon healer. Somehow, he would find a way to pay for Red's treatment because Gods know, he couldn't afford another dragon.

He pushed his old hat back a little to squint at the settlement. _Berk._ Not a name famous for anything...but he knew a little about the place...and what he knew gave some hope he could turn a profit. All he needed were his wits, his ability to get along with folks and the fastest draw and deadliest shot this side of the mountains. He ruffled the dust out of his dark auburn hair, pulled his scarf up to cover his mouth against the swirling grit and kicked Red on. No point waiting: the town wasn't getting any friendlier and his dragon was getting hungrier so he put his head down and rode into town.

The first person to greet him was a young boy, maybe ten or twelve. The lad was in clothes verging on too small with holes at the elbows but his grey eyes were bright and his black hair was tousled. "Welcome to Berk!" the boy called. "I'm Gustav! And you are...?"

"Too tired, too hungry and too suspicious to give my name to a stranger," the stranger said. The boy's expression fell a little.

"Oh..." he managed in a disappointed voice. "Um...do you have a place to stay or are you heading for the Outcast or Berserker compounds?"

"Imagine I just arrived, kid," the stranger said sarcastically. "I need a place to stay..." Red gave a pained rumble and the stranger could see that his damaged wing was bleeding from the effort getting his rider here.

"Um...old Gobber's is the only hostel in town, stranger," Gustav said. Pulling his scarf down, the stranger inspected him carefully.

"Any good?" he asked more quietly. The boy shrugged.

"Um...it's the _only_ hostel in town..." Gustav admitted. The stranger scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and scanned the dusty plaza. The lad gestured to a building that was leaning ever so slightly, a forge bolted onto the side which looked considerably better cared-for and with a sign outside proudly proclaiming 'Gobber's Place.' Absently, the stranger flipped a silver half-dollar to the boy and Gustav's face lit up. The stranger flicked a glance-and a wink-to the boy before fixing his sights on the hostel and gently kicking Red forward. Grumbling slightly, the old Monstrous Nightmare limped along, putting as little pressure as possible on his lacerated wing joint.

But as he was distracted by his dragon, the stranger didn't notice the men sitting on the wooden railings of an old corral, eyeing up the lanky newcomer as a cat eyes a new mouse. All were in black leathers with grey shirts and all were armed.

"Hey, stranger!" One called-a thickset hairy man with narrow blue eyes and a bushy beard. "Not got a greeting for us?"

"I can honesty think of nothing to say to you!" the stranger growled, feeling himself tense.

"Yak got yer tongue?" a second-equally big and hairy-laughed.

"I'll give you one dollar for yer dragon-and I expect change!" the third sneered. He was an older, skinny man with mean eyes, wild hair and a grating voice.

"Aw...he looks like he's going to cry..." the first man scoffed as the stranger swung his head round and blinked at a swirl of dust in his eyes.

"Riding that dragon, who can blame ''im?" the old man sniped.

"Does he want his Mommy?" the second taunted him.

"You know there's a tax for entering town?" the fourth man asked him coldly, drawing his pistol.

"You don't look like tax collectors," the stranger commented, his hand tightening on the saddle.

"Looks can be deceiving..." the fourth man snarled and fired. The others all joined in, a hail of bullets dancing around Red's paws and wings. Surrounded by the cacophony, the Nightmare startled-for bullets were still dangerous to dragons-and roared, rearing onto his hind legs, almost throwing the stranger. But as the dragon threw himself forward, his useless wing spreading, the stranger knew what was coming next and threw himself forward, his hands grasping the sign of the hostel. He swung away as Red burst into flame, roaring and galloping away down the plaza to the laughs of the men. Green eyes narrowed as he memorised their faces and the device on their leather vests and then he swung to land agilely outside the hostel.

A bulky man leaned against the wall, wearing a leather apron and narrowing his blue eyes. What was striking about him was the fact he was a double amputee-his right lower leg was replaced by a simple wooden peg while his left hand was a fearsome hook. His long blond braided moustache swung as he pushed himself upright and hobbled over, his bald head covered by an incongruous brown bowler hat.

"That's a fine way ter get yeself killed, laddie!" he commented.

"Gee, thanks...like I hadn't figured that out!" the stranger replied automatically.

"Sarky streak of piss, aren't yer?" the large man shot back. The stranger narrowed his green eyes and flipped his grubby greeny-brown poncho back to offer the man a hand.

"I do my best," he admitted. "Gobber, I presume." The proprietor stared at the proffered hand for a long moment and then grasped it.

"And ye would be trouble, I guess," he sighed. The stranger whistled through his teeth and Red slowly limped back from the other end of the plaza, leaving little patches of blood where his lacerated wing-joint landed. Without hesitating, the man turned and quietly rubbed the hideous, greying muzzle, murmuring to the dragon. Red gave a pained croon and the stranger's head turned to glare at the laughing men, who were walking back to the compound. Eyes narrowed as he heard the dragon whimper again.

"You can call me Ryder," he said.


	2. My Mistake

**Two: My mistake...**

Gobber Belch, blacksmith, gunsmith and hotelier of Berk stared at the stranger carefully. The man was tall and lean, his lanky frame carried with poise and an unconscious grace and he was clearly furious. Beneath a very battered hat, his messy dark auburn hair was dusty from the ride, cut above the collar and his stunning forest green eyes were cold and focussed on the men who had terrified his dragon. A shiver ran down the old blacksmith's spine: he wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that glare. The face was younger than he guessed close to-maybe only twenty-with a little scruffy stubble and a small pale scar on the right side of his chin, just below the lip. And he looked down on his luck, with a patched green shirt, a scruffy sheepskin waistcoat and a pair of battered black jeans over brown, scuffed boots. Even the pistol on his left hip was worn, for all that it was polished and slung professionally.

The dragon whimpered again and Gobber walked forward. Expert eyes saw a bad injury to the wing that certainly prevented the poor creature from flying but also affected walking, since Nightmares walked on their front wing-joints as well as their back legs. And the creature was clearly suffering, probably unable to travel on again.

"Ah think we should mebbe get him inter the stable, laddie," he offered softly. "Poor beastie needs somewhere quiet and safe just now..."

The head moved and the stranger-Ryder-gave the faintest hint of a smile, fleeting and then gone. 'Thanks," he mumbled, patting the dragon then trotting across the plaza to retrieve his strewn belongings-scattered in the dirt and lightly scorched. His saddle bags, bedroll and saddle were all gathered silently and then he walked back. "Not your fault, buddy," he murmured and accepted Gobber's help to get the listing dragon into the stable. Once there, Red gratefully collapsed onto the stone floor, his eyes closing in weariness. Gently, Ryder crouched by him and rubbed the hideous face again, gently muttering reassurances. Then he rose and walked into the hostel.

"Wow. I've seen tidier places after a tornado!" Ryder commented, peering at a sticky bar, dirty glasses and overturned tables and chairs. "Is this a saloon or a rubbish dump?"

"Yer can always share wi' the dragon, laddie!" Gobber shot back. Sighing, Ryder righted a table and chair, dumped his belongings on the table and walked to the bar. Gobber watched him find the two least dirty glasses, wipe them on the edge of his poncho and slosh mead into both, downing the shot in one gulp.

"That'll take the scales off a Nadder!" he wheezed.

"That's me finest home brew!" Gobber growled but Ryder sloshed another measure into his glass and necked it like the first.

"And if I go blind, I'll shoot you by the sound of your voice!" he promised. Cracking a smile, Gobber almost floored the lanky man with a huge pat on the shoulder.

"I _like_ ye, laddie," he said and his face grew serious, "so let me do ye a favour. _Get outta Berk._ This place is doomed and if ye stay here, ye'll end up dead." Ryder scratched his chin and inspected the older man.

"And I thought we were getting on so well," he sighed. "Why are you running me out of town?"

"I ain't," Gobber admitted, "but this place is dangerous."

"Isn't the Sheriff up to the job?"

"He ain't the boss of Berk," Gobber sighed. "Not bin a shadow o' himself these past twenty years since he lost his wife and his son were taken. Before...mebbe he would've struggled more but now, well, he just lets it happen..."

"What happened?"

"Berk is run by two gangs," Gobber explained. "The Outcasts are gun runners-got the the finest selection of dragon and man killing ordnance this side of the Capitol. Their leader is Alvin the Treacherous...but then, you've already met his men..." Ryder stiffened and his eyes fired with anger...but he forced himself to speak calmly.

"And the other gang?"

"Berserkers," Gobber said with a sigh, refilling both their glasses. "Dragon Merchants. Led by three brothers...Savage...who is _exactly_ as his name suggests, Vorg...stupid but violent...and Dagur. He's the one yer need ter watch, laddie. He's a few Vikings short of a horde. We call 'im Deranged...though not ter 'is face, 'e really don't like it. Deadly shot, ruthless and amoral. Don't cross 'im if yer can ''elp it, laddie. Last ten men that did visited the twins..." Ryder frowned.

"Um, I've heard all sorts of euphemisms for being killed but _that_ is a new one," he noted dryly as Gobber limped to his feet and led him through the kitchen-that made him gag at the mould-covered pans and food-before stumbling into a yard where the sounds of banging and sawing were competing with two voices yelling at top volume.

"It's MY turn to drive the hearse!" a female voice screeched.

"You did the last funeral!" a male voice protested.

"That was hardly a funeral! We just dumped him in a hole!"

"Butt-elf...that is all a funeral is!"

"There are usually people and a priest..."

"Not at midnight!"

"Remind me again...why were we burying someone at midnight?"

"Because Dagur paid triple!"

"They were dead, right?"

"Er...dead people do shout 'let me out', don't they?"

"The twins are undertakers extraordinaire," Gobber explained over the argument. "There're so many funerals they can size ye at a glance and retrieve a body before it even starts tae cool. Of course, drunken Olaf has tae be very careful sleeping in the street nowadays. They've buried him three times so far...I'm sure the last one was on purpose too..."

"Note to self: be careful where I have a nap," Ryder deadpanned. The twins stopped arguing and eyed him up. A girl his age with long blonde braids and a boy with long blond dreadlocks looked at him in surprise. Both wore dark brown shirts, waistcoats and pants. The girl planted a hand on her hip.

"Hmm..six one, no more than one thirty and kinda cute," was her verdict. Ryder glanced at the floor and a smile twisted his lips.

"Um...two of those," he complimented her, then heard the irregular breathing from the stable. "So...two bosses in one small town. There's money to be made here..."

"Except, laddie, that two bosses is one boss too many," Gobber warned him. "Ye don't wanna be caught with the Outcasts on one side, Berserkers on the other and yer slap bang in the middle..." Ryder dropped his arms and his hands flexed.

"My dragon's on his last legs, I have no money to pay for a dragon master to treat him...or a new dragon...or a room in your place," he said very slowly.

"Well...ye could always work as a pall bearer..." Gobber suggested. "Ye've got the build for it..." Ryder shuddered: he had been around death more than enough.

"I've experience in a forge," he suggested.

"I'd love tae, laddie, except there isnae enough work for me, let alone another smith as well." Gobber's tone was regretful and Ryder got the impression he would have relished the chance to have a colleague. But it looked like honest work just wouldn't pay the bills.

"Which of them is stronger?" he asked softly. Gobber blinked.

"Berserkers...especially Dagur," he said reluctantly. "Laddie...I'll forget what ye owe me...I'll see ter yer dragon...and even lend yer enough to buy a new dragon tae git outta town...if yer go _now!_ Please..." But Ryder's expression was anything but reassuring.

"A man's gotta make his own way in the world," he said quietly. "I won't leave you out of pocket for me."

"Where are yer going?" Gobber asked as the stranger shed his poncho and handed it to the blacksmith, before he walked confidently towards the gate that led out onto the plaza.

"Making a statement," he said then turned to the twins. "Get three coffins ready..."

They watched as he walked evenly onto the dirt of the plaza and back the way he came, towards the broken corral where the Outcasts he had met earlier were still hanging around. They started laughing as they saw his determined expression. He stopped, facing them as they all straightened up.

"Where's your dragon?" the first man said. "Did it get away from you?"

"That's a shame," the old man added. "Mind yer, 'e only looked fit ter be made inter belts and dragon food..."

"Actually, that's the reason why I wanted to speak to you," Ryder said reasonably. "It's about my dragon. He's feeling really bad after the way you treated him..."

There was a chorus of sarcastic sounds. "Awww," the second man sneered.

"I think he'd fell a whole heap better if you said you were sorry," Ryder commented mildly.

"But we're not!" the first man scoffed to a chorus of laughter. Under the shadow cast by the brim of his battered hat. Ryder's green eyes narrowed and hardened.

"Really mature guys," he sneered. "I don't like you laughing. And neither does my dragon. He gets the crazy idea you're laughing at him!" The laughter grew louder. "Now, if you apologise...like I know you're going to...I could convince him you didn't mean it..."

There was silence.

"But we did," the old man sneered.

"My mistake..." Ryder said tonelessly, dropping his hand to the holster on his left hip. "I thought you wanted to live." There was a crowded moment of realisation and five hands reached for pistols. But only four shots rang out, echoing up and down the plaza. Four bodies hit the dirt, all dead. Ryder quietly holstered his pistol and took a deep breath...

"You killed them!" Two voices shouted the words senior simultaneously. Ryder gripped his pistol once more as a huge man with a bushy back beard and wild hair, scarred face and expensive leathers ran from the house, a younger, stockier man with black hair and blue eyes and his shoulder. To his right, a similarly vast man with enormous flaming red and braided beard, cool grey-green eyes and black jacket-decorated with a silver star-was running forward. Gun in hand, Ryder backed a pace to keep all comers covered.

"Wow. The cavalry arrives," he commented. "Where were you when they almost killed me?"

"The key word is almost!" the red-bearded man growled.

"And you are?" Ryder's tone was icy: he had already guessed.

"Sherriff Stoick Haddock, mayor of Berk!" The voice still clung to a few shreds of pride. "You killed four men in cold blood: you'll hang for that. I..."

"You're the useless Sherriff who doesn't control the town," Ryder told him. "And why should I obey you when no one else does?"

"I-I..."

"Policing by consent-gotta love it,"Ryder commented. "But what happens when consent is withdrawn? I think you just become an ornament!" Then he dismissively turned to the enraged black-bearded ruffian who had emerged from the compound: not a lot of calculation involved there either. "And you gotta be Alvin the Treacherous, solid second place in the race for town boss."

"I'll kill you fer this!" the man threatened in a wheezing tone. Ryder frowned slightly.

"I mean, why _call_ yourself 'the Treacherous'?" he asked the man. "If you're a businessman, you actually need to be somewhat trustworthy so telling everyone you're not seems a _really_ poor business strategy!"

"Yer scrawny little..."

"Maybe you should consider 'Alvin the Trustworthy'," Ryder added, seeing the man turn puce with rage. "You could get business cards and..." Unable to speak for rage, Alvin turned and stormed away, the young man by him casting a deeply menacing glare at him before stalking away. Ryder gave a lopsided smile. "Way to make friends," he grinned, holstering his pistol and trudging back towards the hostel. The twins were cheering and whooping.

"My mistake," Ryder apologised as they gave him huge thumbs-ups. "Four coffins."


	3. Job Interview

**Three: Job Interview.**

Gobber decided to put him up 'on the tab' and fed him a plate of stew that would probably kill him from three different versions of food poisoning. After the meal-washed down with more mead than a sensible man would drink but which was probably the only thing sterilising the ghastly food-Ryder had insisted on cleaning the kitchen just in case he survived the day's meal because he wanted a less hazardous dinner next time.

He had almost finished washing up when the doors of the saloon slammed open and he heard heavy steps clomp into the hostel. He tensed, his hand dropping to the grip of his pistol, fingers unconsciously caressing the cool metal and smooth wood. His lean shape pressed against the wall as he listened and tried to work out who was in the next room.

"That's the last damned thing I need!" a gruff voice growled as a chair creaked alarmingly under some severe weight. Ryder chanced a glance round the door and saw the huge flame-haired shape of the Sheriff sitting on a protesting wooden chair, a grubby glass of Gobber's rotgut sitting on the table in front of him.

"Ye canna prevent drifters comin' in and out, Stoick!" Gobber said reasonably, necking his own shot of 'mead'. He grimaced. "Hmm…he may have been right. This isn't as smooth as I usually like…" Stoick quirked an eyebrow. Gobber's home-brew was the worst liquor for a hundred miles…but there was precious little option either.

"That one seems different…and I don't trust him…"

"Ye don't trust anyone, Stoick," Gobber pointed out reasonably, refilling his glass. The Sheriff stroked his huge beard and sat back, the chair creaking alarmingly. He took a small sip from his drink.

"Well-you didn't have drifters murder your wife and steal your year-old son," he growled. "They were here because Alvin and his Gods-damned gang, attracting scum from all across the badlands! And this new arrival…feels just as dangerous."

"He's a sarky bastard, I'll grant ye that," Gobber grinned. "But there's more tae him that that!"

"He gunned four men down on the street in cold blood!" the Sheriff pointed out, emptying his glass. He coughed. "Odin! Gobber-I should arrest you for attempted murder!" he choked. Ryder felt his lips tilt in a small smile: the mead was truly horrible here.

"Then who would ye talk tae?" the blacksmith asked him grinning. "But the lad had his reasons. Those men shot at his dragon…and the beastie was already on his last legs. The shock and stress may well ha' finished him off…and the lad seems very fond of the dragon…"

"It's only a beast," the Sheriff growled and Ryder's teeth gritted. Redwing was anything but 'only a beast'. He turned away and slipped out into the yard, heading for the stable and checking on Red. The Nightmare was sleeping quietly, his breathing laboured and skin cooler than usual. Ryder crouched by him for a long time, his hand resting on the muzzle.

"It's okay, bud," he murmured. "I'll get you a Dragon Master, we'll fix you up and then we can get outta this place." Red cracked an eye slightly and the violent yellow glowed slightly in the gloom, the faintest rumble vibrating in his throat. "I know…you saved my life back when…and I'll make sure we find you somewhere safe and warm to settle down." The eyes closed again and Ryder rose agilely. He headed to the hostel…and paused, then clambered up the outside of the house and swung through the window into the small room Gobber had given him. Resting his hat on the bedside table, he kicked his boots off, laced his hands behind his head as he lay back on the hard bed and immediately dropped asleep.

oOo

Morning saw him up with the dawn, checking on Red, stretching and making breakfast. Gobber ambled downstairs to find fried ham and eggs and freshly brewed coffee. The blacksmith gaped as Ryder jerked his head and the hotelier stared in shock: the saloon had been swept, the bar washed down and polished and the carpet straightened and beaten.

"What ha' ye done tae my saloon?" he asked in distress. Ryder smiled as he slammed down a plate in front of Gobber and then brought his own to eat with his host.

"Cleaned it," he explained and tucked in. Gobber stared at the lean young man, his emerald eyes sparkling with amusement and messy auburn hair highlighted with copper in the sunlight filtering through the newly-cleaned windows.

"Why?" Gobber asked pointedly.

"Because a man must make his way in the world," Ryder explained softly. "Something my father always told me. And I have no money right now…so I have at least paid for my breakfast by cleaning your saloon."

"I had ye on the tab!" Gobber protested, tucking in. The food was infinitely better than anything he could produce.

"I had being beholden," Ryder admitted, his face briefly shadowed. "And I've no idea how long I'm gonna be here-or if anyone will give me a job. So I don't want to make too big a debt if I can help it…"

"And yer serious about seeing the Berserkers?" Gobber asked.

"Doubt your friend the Sheriff would employ me," he shot back. "And I need to get a dragon healer to see Red. That takes money…and Dragon Merchants pay well…"

"I doubt they are just looking for wranglers," Gobber warned him. "They'll want yer gun, laddie. They're ruthless and I'm not sure how they get their dragons either…" Ryder rose abruptly and grabbed the empty plates, the expression in his eyes unreadable.

"I'd ask you to wash up…but I doubt you know how to…" he said sarcastically.

"Laddie…take care," Gobber advised him gently.

"Hardly likely to injure myself washing up…unless I try drinking your mead at the same time…"

"I meant with the Berserkers," the blacksmith said gravely. "Dagur is dangerous." Ryder's emerald gaze snapped with anger.

"So am I," he replied sharply then fashioned a lopsided smile. "Don't worry, old man. I've been taking care of myself since I was twelve. I've got the hang of it by now!"

"Twelve? Laddie, that's not right…" Ryder dumped the plates in a bowl of water and ran his fingers through his tousled hair.

 _No, it's not,_ he thought quietly. _But never really got much of a say after those trappers came through._ He scrubbed the plates efficiently and set them to dry, then slammed his hat on and turned back to Gobber. The man seemed kindly but bitter experience had taught Ryder the hard way never to reveal too much of himself to anyone. So he crushed the instinct to reply and instead, all he he muttered was: "Time I went looking for a job."

He wouldn't admit to anyone but he was nervous as he walked across the plaza towards the tall adobe walls of the compound of the Berserkers. His pistol was comforting on his hip and his hat was shielding his eyes from the bright morning sun, meaning he wasn't blinded. His gait was easy and confident as he approached, green gaze flicking up to the man covering the open gates. The burly shape nodded him in and he walked calmly towards the main house.

Savage and Vorg were lounging on the verandah, finishing a large breakfast and tossing back coffee and mead like it was going out of fashion. There was no sign of Dagur. Both the 'other' brothers rose and inspected the lean, lanky shape carefully, seeing the battered clothes and boots, professional stance with the gun and quick, intelligent green eyes.

"I thought you'd come to see us," Savage commented.

"Could hardly see Alvin," Ryder replied smoothly. "He's got four men in the ground on account of me. He'd shoot me sooner than hire me."

"Though he now has four fewer men and should be looking for new talent," Vorg noted.

"Not the brightest, I reckon," Ryder said. His gaze was switching from brother to brother, realising from their body language that Savage was the senior. "So are _you_ looking for new talent…sir?" Savage grinned yellowly and he shared a look with his brother.

"Depends what you have to offer, boy?" he sneered. Ryder stiffened.

"You've already seen my ability with the gun," he commented coolly. "What other roles are you looking for?" Savage gave a sly smile.

"How're you with dragons?" he asked.

"Dragons…let me see…ferocious fire-breathing, flaming reptiles like the one I rode into town on?"

"You've a smart mouth," Savage snapped back.

"Why thank you. I have practiced for years to perfect my skills," Ryder shot back, his eyes narrowed. He didn't trust either man. "I can wrangle, train and ride 'em, if that's what you mean?" Savage turned towards the main yard.

"Exactly what I had in mind!" he sneered and led the new man through into their main facility. Heavy cages were built into the ground and the walls with many dragons trapped and scared looking. A few had been ill-treated and wounded and the place was populated with very disreputable men tending the frightened reptiles. Ryder looked around, guessing he would fit in fine here…until he saw the girl.

He stepped a couple of paces closer, realising she was, in fact, a young woman, maybe his age, her slender and poised shape leaning against a cage, her hand delicately stroking the horned face of an azure and gold Deadly Nadder, Her sun-bright blonde hair was firmly braided over her left shoulder and as she half-turned, he caught a glimpse of her beautiful face with very occasional freckles and piercing blue eyes. Her eyes snapped cold with hostility as she saw him and backed away, her dark blue skirt brushing her booted ankles. He quirked the slightest half-smile and he bowed his head, tipping the battered brim of his hat.

"Ma'am," he murmured as she tossed her head and stalked away, her chin high. Following her with his eyes, he folded his arms.

"She's none of your concern," Savage said in his ear icily.

"Then who…?"

"She's Dagur's," Vorg added. "If you want to stay alive, keep away from Astrid." Ryder stared her for a moment longer before turning to Savage once more. The man gestured to the centre of the yard and the men backed away…as one wrenched the door of a cage open and a russet and brown Monstrous Nightmare erupted out, flaming and furious.

"This bad boy has proven impossible to tame or train," Vorg explained, stepping back swiftly. "He's wild and bad-tempered."

"Tame him and you've got a job," Savage said, withdrawing behind the metal screen and peering through the viewing port. The other men had similarly vanished, leaving the stranger exposed with an angry dragon and no allies.

"No pressure then, just a simple little task," Ryder sighed then dragged his hat off and pointedly unstrapped his gun, dropping both behind him and facing the dragon calmly. Years with Red had given him a large amount of confidence with Nightmares and he examined the dragon carefully. He was young, his scales shiny and in good condition and his horns were complete and still dark in colour. His wings were in good condition, mobile with complete membranes and he was moving swiftly, nervously with his pupils constricted to tight slits.

Ryder walked closer, unfazed by the flaming dragon. He knew Monstrous Nightmare gel tended to burn out quickly and he gently circled the dragon as he waited, watching it shake its head and drool fire. Slowly, the flames on its skin died but the dragon roared angrily and snapped at the man. He dropped his hands by his sides and stared at the dragon.

"It's okay, boy," he murmured gently. "I don't mean to harm you. I just wanna be your friend, hmm?" Then he turned his head away and gently extended his hand, standing dead still. For a long moment, he waited for something…and then he felt the warm scaly muzzle press into his palm, the huff of hot, sulphurous breath brushing the fine hairs on his forearms. He gently looked back at the reptile and rubbed the muzzle cautiously, seeing the pupils dilate in trust. The dragon shook his head slightly and Ryder frowned, a finger ghosting along the line of the dragon's fang-loaded mouth until he felt a flash of warmth and the Nightmare roared in pain.

"Easy, easy," he whispered, rubbing the snout firmly and as the dragon gave a sigh, Ryder saw what he was expecting: the rotten tooth, a common problem with Monstrous Nightmares. "Just let me help you, buddy…" And he fearlessly grabbed the rotten tooth, wrenched and twisted desperately and yanked it free. Instantly, the dragon crooned in relief, craning his long neck forward to rub his head affectionately against the auburn-haired man. "I'll bet that feels better," he smiled.

The dragon gave a rumbling purr that had Ryder giving a lopsided smile in return. "Hookfang," he murmured. "How's that sound, huh?" The dragon rumbled in approval at the name as Ryder scratched his chin again and his eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

"Unbelievable!" Savage exclaimed. "I was sure he'd eat him!" He handed his brother a ten dollar bill and then turned to Ryder, who was retrieving his hat and fastening gun-belt on swiftly. The dragon was still standing obediently at his back. "Well, I guess you passed," he said. "Put it in the cage, will you?" Reluctantly, Ryder led the dragon back to the cage and smiled, rubbing the dragon affectionately and slowly closing the door. He walked confidently to the basket at the far side of the yard, grabbed a couple of large salted fish and fed them to the dragon, murmuring reassurance before turning away.

"Did I get the job?" he asked ironically. Savage nodded dumbly.

"Where'd you learn to do that, kid?" Vorg asked him lazily.

"Here'n'there," Ryder replied equally casually. "So what are my duties?" Savage beckoned and he was led back to the verandah. The Berserker handed over a roll of bills.

"Two hundred dollars," he said easily as Ryder closed his hand carefully around the green. "You'll do what we tell you to _when_ we tell you to."

"Sounds straightforward," Ryder commented, folding the money and slipping it inside his sheepskin vest. "When do I start?" A very large and stone-faced man arrived, incongruously wearing a bucket on his head.

"All our men live here," Savage told him. "We wait for Dagur to get back from a business trip and then we will plan our next trip. Bucket here will show you to your room…" Ryder stared up at the big man.

"Mornin'…" he said. The man stared blankly back. "Not very talkative, is he?"

"Bucket was struck by lightning," Vorg explained. "Doesn't talk…but he's very loyal!" Ryder gave a small nod and fashioned a lopsided smile.

"Lead on, big guy!" he invited as the large man slowly turned and led Ryder up the stairs and into a small, hot room with a single bed, a chest of drawers and a large shuttered window. Without a word, Bucket left him and he flung open the window, breathing in the air and catching the scents of dragon dung, slightly off fish and fires. And the sound of voices, arguing below. Without hesitating, he swung through the window and landed on the wall below, balancing along and crouching as he listened…

"We _never_ pay anyone that much, Savage!" Vorg shouted.

"This is an exception!" Savage growled back. "That man is ridiculously quick with a pistol. He gunned down four men before a single one had a chance to draw! And he's intelligent too. I don't trust him…"

"Let me sort him out," Vorg offered. "I'll go to his room. One shot and…"

"You're an idiot!" Savage raged at him. "What if you miss and he's only wounded? With Dagur on the way back and the mission on the cards…and the prize we've sought for years within our grasp, the last thing we want is a loose cannon! No, you stay away and we treat him well as one of our men. We keep him onside until we have it."

Ryder had heard enough, scrambling up to his window and swinging in, his emerald gaze sweeping the yard. There was a fine cage in black metal with an elaborate lock and what looked like a shallow pool filling the bottom set away to one side, concealed from the common dragons. He paused then turned to the door, wrenching it open and walking to the stairs. He almost crashed into Astrid.

"Watch where you're going!" the girl said, her intense blue eyes glittering with anger. He raised his hands in surrender.

"Whoa, Milady-you almost crashed into me!" he protested then backed away. "You don't look wide enough to need the _whole_ corridor but I didn't get much of a look at your ass so maybe that…"

"Say another word and you're a dead man!" she spat at him. "I've had my fill of loathsome pigs and lecherous scum!"

"Whoa! We've not even been introduced!" Ryder taunted her.

"I can tell by looking what kind of man you are!" she sneered. "You're here, aren't you?"

"Ouch. You must be very wise, Milady, from all those books you've read by merely glancing at their covers, so I defer to your judgement!" And he stepped back as she strode past, her cheek flushed with anger. There was still a proud tilt to her head and light in her eyes but he could tell she was very defensive. Shaking his head, he walked down the stairs and nodded to the brothers.

"Where're you going?" Vorg asked.

"Back to the hotel," he replied. "Not really a people person…"

"But our men all live here…" Savage blustered. Ryder smiled as he tipped his hat and headed for the gates.

"No offence but I don't find you men all that appealing," he told him. "Call me when Dagur gets back and you need my services…"

And with that he was gone.


	4. A Bad Deal

**Four: A Bad Deal.**

He headed straight for the Dragon Healer, recognising the symbol over the door and the small dark shop packed with books and jars of potions. He ducked in through the door and stared at the door to the back room until the man emerged. Ryder inspected the Dragon Master and saw a man not much older than he was but the opposite in appearance. Ryder was tall, lean and lanky while the man, though similar in height, was very husky and well-built with preposterously short legs and powerful arms, a timid, gentle manner and short blonde hair under a simple bowler hat. His round face and blue eyes were filled with curiosity and intelligence.

"I thought I'd see you sooner or later," the man said, his voice nervous too. Ryder nodded silently, his forest green eyes inspecting the man carefully. "What's the problem?"

"Beyond the obvious-that my dragon has a busted wing? Howsabout everything?" Ryder growled. The man approached a step, his brow furrowing.

"Franklin 'Fishlegs' Ingerman-Dragon Master," the husky man said calmly. "Yes, I noted the injury when you came in. What surprised me was how long you took to get help…"

"Not everyone can afford a fancy Dragon Master's help," Ryder told him coldly, tipping his battered stetson back slightly. "I needed to get some money before I could afford your services!" The other man was collecting his potions in a small black doctor's bag.

"Hmm…yes. Your sort usually just use the Berserkers' healers," he commented dryly.

"And what sort is that?" Ryder asked icily.

"Border scum," Fishlegs condemned him absently while sorting through his materials. Ryder tightened his fist. "What's the problem?"

"We got taken down by trappers months back," Ryder said grimly. "Fought them off but we had to walk." He stared at the Dragon Master and the man flicked his blue gaze up.

"But you still could have asked the Berserker healer to look at your dragon," Fishlegs suggested thoughtfully but Ryder scratched his chin.

"No thanks," he murmured stubbornly. "Don't get the impression they actually care for dragons…and wouldn't recommend anything for Red except turning him into skin and meat."

"I need to see your money, man," the Dragon Healer said without shame and Ryder fished out the wad of notes, raising an eyebrow wryly as the other man's blue eyes grew rounder with excitement. Ryder tucked them away and turned to the door without handing over a dime.

"Unless you actually charge to set foot outside your store," he added sarcastically and the other man eeped and scuttled after the confident stride of Ryder as he easily traversed the dusty plaza and slid into the back yard of the hostel, heading for the stable. He heard Fishlegs scuttling along behind him as he entered the dim coolness and crouched by the sprawled dragon, his heaving breaths the only sound in the stall. Ryder gently stroked the hideous head and the eyes cracked open a slit, weary yellow seeing his friend and managing a vague croon.

Fishlegs dropped to his knees and inspected the damaged wing, wincing at the bare and damaged ligaments and cartilage. He glanced up, seeing a generous slathering of ointment applied to the wound and his eyes flicked up to the stranger, crouched tensely by the dragon. "You?" he asked and the stranger nodded.

"How is he?" he asked softly. Fishlegs thoroughly completed his inspection and glanced up.

"How long have you had him for?" he asked the stranger. Ryder narrowed his eyes.

"Five years. Why?" The tone was very wary.

"And how old was he before that?" Fishlegs was facing him now and he frowned.

"I-I don't know…but he wasn't with a herd," Ryder admitted. "He…came upon me…"

 _Lying in the dirt, beaten and broken, eyes flicking to where she lay, still. The clunk of the cylinder moving and the click of the hammer cocking. The steady hand pointing the gun at his helpless shape…_

 _…_ _waiting to join her…_

 _…_ _and then the roar, ferocious and accompanied by the flare of flames as the dragon closed…shots and shouts and finally screams…and then the pad of approaching paws, signalling the end…_

 _…_ _but instead the flames died and a brown and black Monstrous Nightmare with brilliant red wings ambled forward, sniffing first at her and then at him…pupils dilating and a small croon of pity vibrating in the long neck…the warm, scaly face pressing into his bloody hand…the dragon scooping him up and taking him away from there, saving his life that day and many times since…_

"His flame has almost gone," Fishlegs said quietly. "And Stoker class dragons can't survive without their flame." Ryder stared at him.

"Fix it," he said grimly.

"I can't!" Fishlegs protested. "He's old and reached his end! You should…"

"Is he in any pain?" Ryder asked roughly. The Dragon Master's eyes flicked around with nervousness.

"Um…from the wing…" he protested.

"Then treat it," Ryder commanded, dropping to his knees and resting both hands on his dragon's face. "It's okay, bud…we'll take the pain away…" And he held the dragon as Fishlegs stitched and salved the wing, finally giving the dragon a draught for the pan. Ryder handed over fifty dollars wordlessly, his eyes fixed on his dragon. Finally, he spoke. "How long?"

"Days?"" Fishlegs whimpered. "I'm sorry. I can see he means a lot to you…"

"He saved my life," he said quietly. "The one person I can rely on." He gave the dragon a final rub as he dropped asleep and then rose easily. "Thank you," he said evenly, then turned to the door. "Can you keep an eye on him?" The husky man nodded: he was feeling a hefty jolt of trepidation around the gunslinger but he could tell the man had genuine feelings for his dragon. There was something familiar about the man, something nagging the Dragon Master and he quietly vowed to find out more about the stranger. There was an old Berkian saying: _a man's life can depend on a scrap of information._ And somehow, Fishlegs knew that there was a very valuable secret tied to the tall stranger…

oOo

In the Berserker compound, there was a mild ripple of interest as the stranger stalked in. He murmured to the head wrangler and then invited himself in to see Savage. The man looked up, his small eyes surprised at the determined look on the new recruit's face.

"I need Fireworm gel," Ryder told him without preamble. "The wranglers say you have some in your stocks."

"Have you the money to pay for it?" Savage replied slimily. "Oh…I doubt it. The stuff is very expensive and we try to reserve it for our most exclusive clients…"

"My dragon needs it!" Ryder said directly. "He'll die without it." Savage stared at him and leaned closer, his expression mocking.

"Do you have five hundred dollars?" he asked the lean gunslinger pointedly.

"I'll work…" Ryder said without hesitation, his green eyes cold. He was mentally kicking himself because he was looking-and sounding-desperate and that was surrendering any advantage he may have clung onto. But Red deserved every shot. Vorg drifted closer, leering nastily.

"You'd hafta clear anything like that with Dagur," he sneered. "And he ain't back until tonight…" Ryder swung around to face him and forced himself to be calm. Shouting at the man would avail little, save alienating his employers. He nodded curtly.

"I'll wait," he said, finding a chair in the corner, tipping his hat down over his face and closing his eyes. "Wake me when Dagur gets back."

He arrived a little after sunset, the screech of dragons coming into land heralding his arrival. Ryder was up and on his feet before anyone could even move to alert him and he was striding out to meet the leader of the Berserkers fearlessly. Dagur swung down, seeing his brothers standing by, smirking, and a stranger walking forward. He scratched his chin and narrowed his cold pale green eyes.

"Is there some reason why that man isn't being restrained or better, shot?" he asked pointedly. Jumping off his dragon-a Skrill in its prime, sleek and growling-he handed the reins to a very wary wrangler and glared at his brothers. "Well?" he snapped.

"He's a new man, a stranger in town..." Savage began, looking nervous.

"The one who shot four of Alvin's men before you rode out," Vorg added. "You advised us to hire him...but he came to us."

"He's a sarcastic shit, refuses to live here and won't spill about himself," Savage growled. "And he dragon is pretty sick. He wants Fireworm gel."

"Does he?" Dagur asked pointedly. "Can he pay?"

"Doubt it," Vorg sneered. There was a pause as the Berserker leader considered. "Okay. Give him the gel...but he's ours. He lives with us, he does what we want when we want, no matter what...and his ass is mine!" Savage nodded briskly and beckoned Ryder forward. The lanky gunslinger approached confidently, his left hand never far from the grip of his pistol. Dagur tipped his hat back and his face twisted into an unsettling leer as he offered the stranger his hand.

"Dagur…" the stranger said respectfully. "It seems everyone in this town is talking about Dagur! It's an honour to meet you at last!"

"And everyone is talking about you, Amigo!" he greeted. Without hesitating, Ryder took his hand and shook it firmly. "My brothers have told me all about you!" Emerald eyes narrowed.

"Good things, I hope," he said pleasantly. "Everyone in this town talks about Dagur. I'm glad to meet you at last."

"And I hear you've joined our family..." Dagur said, circling him like a cat circling a mouse. Careful to keep him in view, Ryder continued to turn as the Berserker spoke. "And your dragon is sick...?"

"Losing his flame," Ryder managed emotionlessly. "Fireworm gel may be his last chance."

"Pricey stuff...rare too..." Dagur began but Ryder's eyes narrowed.

"I know you have it," he said tonelessly and Dagur gave a sudden laugh.

"A man who does his research!" he exclaimed, his knowing grin making Ryder uncomfortable. "I _like_ that!"

"Glad to amuse you," the stranger murmured and Dagur clapped him hard on the shoulder.

"Hmm...I think we may be able to extend credit to one of ours...but the price is significant..." the Berserker told him. "You join us properly. You live with us, eat and sleep with us...and you do what we want, when we want, _how_ we want...or I may find my generosity running very dry!"

Ryder stared at the man. Dagur's tone was ice cold and clearly threatened that he would enjoy punishing any perfidy. It was a bad deal, a deal that gave away his independence and severely restricted his chances of making a profit out of this wretched little town...but he wouldn't be here without Red. He blinked and nodded. A triumphant grin at having this dangerous player under his thumb spreading over his face, Dagur snapped his fingers and Vorg walked forward with a cell of precious Fireworm gel.

"Don't use it all at once!" he taunted the lean man and Ryder quietly accepted the cell, a crystalline hexagonal container generated by a Fireworm Queen for her offspring, the hand-sized Fireworms that burnt hot enough to melt through steel. He had been to a nest once, searching for the precious gel, but he had been chased out-and burnt-by the irate Queen. Red had saved him then as well. With a nod, he walked back to Gobber's and the little stable out back.

It was very quiet as he entered, with Fishlegs sitting by the barely moving Red. The Monstrous Nightmare was sprawled on the floor, forked tongue drooping out of the side of his mouth, his head tilted wearily, eyes closed and irregular breathing the only sign he was still alive. Ryder dropped to his knees by the hideous head and tenderly stroked the ugly face, calloused fingers gently scratching until the dragon fought to open his eyes. The man leaned very close to the dying dragon and brandished the cell. Fishlegs gaped: he hadn't suggested the gel because he assumed there was no way the man could afford it-and there was no guarantee anyway. The dragon was very far gone and was just worn out… Tipping his battered hat off onto the floor, he leaned by the head and cracked the end off the cell.

"Here ya go, bud," the stranger said gruffly, timing the sticky, honey-like liquid into the dragon's mouth. Unresisting, the Monstrous Nightmare allowed the man to empty the whole cell into his mouth then stroke and massage his throat until he swallowed. Finally, dropping the spent cell by his side, Ryder sat back on his heels and stared at the dragon. "I hope it works," he murmured. Fishlegs stared curiously at the lanky, auburn-haired man.

"Why?" he asked interestedly, realising from the tone he wasn't referring to his desire to heal the dragon. Emerald eyes flicked up.

"Because to get that for him, I've had to pledge myself to the Berserkers," he mumbled. "And that probably won't be the best for anyone." He rocked to a crouch and really embraced the dragon. "Hang in there, buddy," he murmured gently. "You save me, I save you…that's how it works…so don't leave me now…" The dragon gave a faint croon and he patted the horns gently, then rose to his feet. "Stay with him as much as you can, please?" he asked softly. "I gotta go." Fishlegs nodded, seeing the man gather his hat and turned to the door. "That's my only friend there, Dragon Master-try not to lose him," he said grimly and left. Trembling at the arctic tone, Fishlegs wiped his clammy brow.

"Oh Thor!" he squeaked. But there was something astonishingly familiar about the expression that had him staring after the lanky gunslinger as he walked confidently across the yard and through the kitchen into the hostel. Ryder looked up as Gobber belched loudly.

"So yer back?" the blacksmith commented.

"Not for long, old man," he murmured. "I gotta move in with the Berserkers…so it means I'll hafta move out from here." He shrugged and squinted at the shabby surroundings and the kitchen which seemed to have gone to hell in the few hours he had been out. "Of course I'll miss the sumptuous ambience and the fine dining…but I'll have to cope. Not sure you won't starve or die of food poisoning in my absence…"

"Cheeky bastard!" the blacksmith growled.

"Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment!" Ryder grinned, heading for the stairs. He swiftly gathered his unopened pack from the room and stalked downstairs with it slung over his shoulder as Gobber watched him, filling two shot glasses with his horrible home-made mead. The stranger walked to him as the old blacksmith gently pushed one towards the younger man.

"Ter yer health," Gobber offered and with a reluctant roll of the eyes, Ryder swallowed the whole glass in one gulp. He coughed, his eyes watering.

"Damn-are you trying to kill me?" he wheezed.

"No-but Dagur might," Gobber warned him in a low voice. ""Laddie-be careful. That Dagur…he's a few men short of a posse. Don't turn yer back on him, lad. I'll keep an eye on yer dragon if ye keep yer eyes open…" Ryder stared at him, his eyes narrowing.

"Why?" he asked directly.

"Because yer not a bad man," Gobber told him. Ryder gave a short laugh.

"Very, very wrong," he said quietly. "I am a very bad man." But he gave a small smile. "Thanks," he added and turned to the door. Gobber watched him.

"Odin look out for ye!" he murmured as the lean shape left without a backward glance. Lifting his chin, the stranger walked across the dusty plaza to the Berserker Compound and glanced up as the doors opened to admit him. Dagur and his brothers were waiting as he walked in and the doors closed behind him.

"Good," the Berserker grinned. "The gang's all here. Now we begin…"


	5. Riding with Berserkers

**Five: Riding with Berserkers**

The next morning the men were up by dawn, Ryder along with them as the Berserker gang prepared to go on a Dragon-hunting trip. Even though they were officially Dragon merchants, they still caught their own dragons to keep down costs…along with their allies, the Dragon Hunters.

Unsure what his role was in the trip, Ryder had gotten up and grabbed breakfast before hanging around, leaning against a wall and watching the ordered chaos that was the preparations for the trip. All work came to a halt as Dagur and his brothers arrived and addressed them.

"We're heading for Raven Point Butte today," Savage began. "Our targets are Boulder class: Gronckles and Hotburples. We've got a backlog of orders for them as workhorses in forges and foundries across the northern cities and bigger towns so everyone will have to pull his weight. Anyone slacking is gonna regret it…"

"I'm sure our new man will make himself useful," Vorg sniped.

"Hey, if anyone tells me what to do, I'll do it!" Ryder commented dryly. Dagur narrowed his icy cold green eyes.

"You will, won't you?" he commented ambiguously. "So if I asked you to shoot that fat old blacksmith…"

"I'd need a damned good reason…since I owe the man money and I can't kill him until I settle my debts," Ryder told him calmly. Dagur frowned,

"That makes absolutely _no sense!"_ he snapped. Ryder pushed himself onto his feet and walked forward.

"Well…I'd have thought _you_ wouldn't want to be encouraging me to shoot men I owed money to, would you, Dagur?" the younger man suggested sarcastically. Eyes narrowing, the Berserker stiffened in anger and the stranger tensed, his hand hovering over his pistol.

"Okay, so there is some sense there," Dagur growled through his teeth. "Saddle up!" Rolling his eyes, Ryder folded his arms.

"I don't have a…" he began.

"You can fly that Nightmare you tamed," Vorg sneered and the younger man sighed.

"Just perfect-a barely broken and very antsy young Nightmare," he grumbled under breath but headed with the others through to the cages…and almost ran into Astrid again. He spun out the way as she scowled at him, recognising him.

"You!" she snapped.

"Milady," he said with a mock bow. "We shouldn't keep meeting like this!"

"Astrid, darling!" Dagur cried and scurried forward. "What did you do?" he hissed at Ryder.

"Avoided crashing into her," the younger man shot back. "She really needs to look where she's going!" Dagur grabbed her wrist and she grimaced and tried to pull away, the skin white from his ferocious grip.

"You should be more careful," he advised her coldly and she writhed and twisted her arm fiercely, trying to pull away.

"Let me go!" she hissed.

"We both know that's not going to happen," he hissed to her, his lips inches from her ear. "You stay here until your father pays his debts…"

"Hardly going to happen since you murdered him!" she spat back, her face white. His other hand grabbed her face, fingers digging into her pale cheeks and forcing her to stare into his mad, pale eyes.

"Then you need to settle them, my dear…or maybe I should shoot that useless brother of yours…" he menaced.

"No…leave Gustav alone…" she murmured softly. "I-I'll do what you want…" He released her face and pawed her shamelessly, the eyes of the men sweeping lustfully over her slender shape. With a groan, she jerked her head away from Dagur's attempt to kiss her, but he dragged her face back and helped himself to a long and very intrusive kiss on the mouth. When he released her, she spun away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, an expression of disgust and shame on her beautiful face. Vorg grabbed at her but she spun and punched him in the face, though he retaliated by backhanding her to the ground. She gasped but didn't cry out, merely trying to get up…to find Savage grasping her waist and grinding against her. She stiffened and tried to pull away…but Dagur spoke up, his tone irritated.

"ENOUGH!" he growled. "Find your own women, brothers…and you, whore-I'll expect a much warmer welcome when we get back!" She nodded, her head down.

"Yes, Dagur," she said in a defeated voice and walked slowly back to the house. Emerald green eyes followed her, seeing the slump in her shoulders and the bitter edge to her voice. Quietly, he saddled Hookfang and the young Nightmare crooned happily as the lanky stranger swung into he saddle and looked expectantly at the other men: he had gotten ready far quicker than they had. Unconsciously, he peered after the vanished Astrid and then swung his calculating gaze back to Dagur. Already, he was getting a feel for the way the man liked to control others' lives and torment them at will. He was a man to keep an eye on-as Gobber had warned him. And he had willingly placed himself in this man's power…

They flew out shortly after, heading over the rusty and yellow sandy and rocky ground, sparsely marked with scrub and a few stunted trees. The rocky ridge rose steeply above them as they flew at low level, heading over the dry river bed towards the distant redstone rise of Raven's Point Butte. The sandy orange dust of the ground blew up and Ryder once again dragged up his scarf to cover his face, squinting against the gritty wind. He had taken station at the back of the group, making sure no one was behind him. He didn't trust a single one of them and had felt the burn of unfriendly eyes on his back: he had no clue what Dagur had planned for him.

oOo

In a fine house back in town, on the opposite side of the plaza to the Berserker compound, the Outcast leader, Alvin 'the Terrible' was sitting at his enormous redwood dining table, munching his way through an enormous feast. The sounds of chomping and chewing filled the red-painted room, portraits of former Outcasts and Chiefs of Berk looking down on him as he grabbed another yak steak and began to masticate through it. Bits of meat and bread stuck to his bird's nest beard.

"That Dagur 'as a cheek!" he growled, spraying juices down his chin. His adoptive son, a sturdy and stocky young man with jet hair and blue eyes, grabbed a lamb shank and began to chew.

"Yeah-and I don't like he hired that skinny sharp-shooting ruffian!" he added. Alvin paused and rolled his eyes. Adopting the boy had been a deliberate act to demonstrate his supremacy but Gods, the boy was dumb.

"That's what I was talkin' about, boy!" he growled. "That red-haired streak of piss shoots down four o' me men and that useless Sheriff don't do nothin' about 'im!"

"Well, Dad-you were the one who told him that no one in town respected him or cared about his position!" Snotlout told him as he chewed. "No wonder word has gotten round." Alvin slammed his half-eaten steak onto the table.

"But I only meant that fer me, not fer any straggler who wants ter wander through Berk!" Alvin growled. "'Ow am I supposed ter keep this town in order?"

"But you're not in charge, Alvin," Snotlout pointed out, juices dribbling down his chin. "Dagur is!"

"Only temporarily!" Alvin reminded him sharply. "Look, boy-yer me Heir and yer need ter start pullin' yer weight against the Berserkers!" He paused. "Remember, Dagur 'as yer girl!" Snotlout's face creased in hatred.

"Astrid! My Princess!" he sighed, his eyes unfocussing as he smiled goofily. "We have to get her free from Dagur and back here with me-where she belongs!" Alvin grabbed a huge mug of mead and drained it, belching.

"So we somehow have ter get 'er out of that compound and over 'ere," Alvin mused. "And we need ter teach that skinny stranger a lesson!" Snotlout's expression was vicious.

"I wanna see that!" he snapped. Reaching for a napkin, Alvin wiped his mouth.

"Yeah, that's gonna be amusin'," he grunted. "But first…yer girl…and what we need…is her little brother." He gave a grin. "Send the men out to capture Gustav."

oOo

The work was long and hard as Ryder threw himself into the dragon-trapping. It was easier and safer to be in the thick of things than trust his safety to one of the dubious quality of men that made up the Berserker gang. Dagur was clever, cruel and demanding-and, on close inspection, Ryder had to agree with Gobber: the Berserker was completely insane. He had no impulse control, violent mood swings and was completely amoral: just the kind of man Ryder preferred to manipulate…but never be at the mercy of.

His obvious skills in dragon wrangling caught Dagur's eye and the Berserker found his eyes drawn to the lean shape, perfectly poised as he calmed and roped a small Gronckle, soothing her gently as she was chained with the other catches. Breathing hard, he tipped his hat back and took a long pull from his canteen, his emerald gaze sweeping across the camp and seeing a trio of men goading and prodding at the male Gonckle that was desperately trying to get at the dragon Ryder had snared. He lowered his canteen and narrowed his eyes as the dragon roared-then attacked the men. As they watched, one was enveloped in Gronckle lava and gave a heart-stopping scream…then fell. Another was hit in the leg and stumbled back, screaming while the third found the dragon slamming him against the wall, thousands of pounds of reinforced hide and anger cracking his bones and dropping him, gravely wounded.

"This one's a no-go!" Savage shouted. "Weapons. KILL IT!"

"NO!" Ryder shouted, leaping forward. It had been unconscious, revealing a little more of his personality than he would have chosen to…but he had seen too much death where it was unnecessary, some of which he had been part of. But this was too close to home to let pass. "He's just scared and angry for his mate…let me…" And without waiting, he calmly walked forward, tossing his hat aside and unbuckling his gunbelt, before walking slowly towards the furious Gronkle.

"Easy, big fella," he said gently, his emerald eyes meeting the angry yellow eyes of the agitated male. He gently stretched his hand out, palm first, fingers slightly splayed as he inched closer. There was growling and Ryder stilled, then inched forward again. And then he stopped, a foot shy of the male, head down, hand outstretched. And he waited.

"Well, this is a waste of…" Vorg began then stuttered to a stop as the Gronckle slowly pressed its flattened face against the outstretched hand. Ryder glanced up and smiled, his other hand rising to rub the warty face firmly.

"It's okay, big fella," the man said calmly, his voice warm with affection. "I can see you just wanna look out for your gal, huh? I know how that feels. She's over here…c'mon…" And he quietly led the dragon to be chained by his mate, crooning quietly. With a small sigh, the stranger walked back, stooping to grab his hat and gun. "One more dragon for your quota," he said easily, a small smile lifting his lips. Dagur tilted his head, inspecting the man and then swinging his cold glare back to the male, softly crooning by his mate.

"Yes," Dagur said. "Kill it!" Ryder spun round, his face aghast as he saw Vorg lift his guns and shoot the male at point blank range. There was the thud as the heavy body collapsed lifeless to the stony ground and the wailing roar of the bereft little female. Breathing hard, the lean shape stilled as he stared at the dead dragon, his hands slowly clenching into fists.

"You didn't need to do that," Ryder ground out. "He was calm. He would have done anything you asked."

"But I had decided he was to die," Dagur reminded him mildly. "You don't disobey me…or do you want the same fate for your dragon?" Ryder stiffened. "I thought so," the Berserker grinned. "Drag that away and prepare it. The meat should be a change from jerky and the hide and bones will be eminently saleable to our friends…" Abruptly Ryder looked up.

"As you say," he muttered and turned away, trudging back to his dragon.

"Where are you going?" Savage demanded. "You can help butcher the carcass." All three brothers noted how the shoulders tightened at the order and then the man turned, his face hard under the battered stetson.

"As you wish," he growled and walked back to the dead Gronckle. Men were already getting knives and saws and the stranger paused, crouching by the slumped shape, laying a soft hand on the still face. He murmured something that may or may not have been 'I'm sorry," before moving aside as a man with a saw began to dismember the corpse.

It was dirty and dispiriting work, a constant reminder of failure and of the mindless cruelty of his employers. Ryder wordlessly did as he was commanded, not meeting anyone's eyes and resting when everyone else did. He ate his portion because he was starving but his green eyes were dulled as he remained at the back and he settled by his ride, curling to sleep after dark with his back to the Monstrous Nightmare. But even when the rest of the camp went quiet except for the watchman, Ryder lay awake, staring into the night. He knew he shouldn't feel guilt, shouldn't allow the death of a wild Gronckle affect him but he couldn't help it: the knowledge that the dragon had just been protecting its mate tore at his memories and as the snores and farts of his companions sounded around him, he could only pull his blanket tighter around his aching shape and pray for dreamless sleep…

 _"_ _Get off me!"_

 _"_ _Heather! Let her go you bastards!"_

 _"_ _Why? We're bored and she looks like she can give a man a good time…"_

 _"_ _No-leave her alone!"_

 _"_ _We've got a live one here, boys! Maybe he can do with a lesson as well…"_

 _Fists and boots met his helpless shape, bruising and breaking him. Torment beyond all words, beyond all imagination enfolded him…and then, when they had done with him, finished their fun…they moved onto her…_

 _…_ _and through the blood and pain, he heard her screams, her whimpers, her soft pleas for mercy, her soft pleas for death…and the sounds of them, using her over and over until finally, there was the single gun shot that silenced her broken sobbing…_

 _…_ _and then they moved over him, adjusting their clothes, their lust and rage sated…almost…_

 _…_ _Lying in the dirt, beaten and broken, eyes flicking to where she lay, still. The clunk of the cylinder moving and the click of the hammer cocking. The steady hand pointing the gun at his helpless shape…_

 _…_ _waiting to join her…_

He jerked upright, eyes wide in fear, breathing hard and swallowing the scream that threatened to burst from his mouth. He hadn't had the nightmare for a while-maybe longer than he should have been free of it-but it had hit him full force. He ran his fingers through his tousled auburn hair, feeling his clammy skin under his touch. He swallowed and pressed his back against the sleeping Hookfang.

"I miss you…" he murmured, eyes burning with the tears he had never shed. Still shaking with the aftermath of the nightmare, he pulled his blanket tighter around his lean shape and closed his eyes…as the sound of wings flapping closed and the unmistakeable sounds of dragons landing were muffled in the cold predawn air. Not moving, he opened his eyes and peered through the slightly misty air to see three dragons landed with Dagur and Savage standing talking to one very tall, built man and a slightly smaller but more poised shape at his side and a heavy shape at their back. He tuned in to the voices.

"Viggo, Ryker-my friends, I am pleased to see you!" Dagur said.

"The feeling is, of course, mutual," the smaller shape said. "I see you've been hard at work."

"But we need the experts if we're to have any chance," Savage added.

"Are the rumours true?" Dagur asked, sounding like a kid on Snoggletog Eve.

"One has been seen in the Scablands for the first time in a generation," the taller man growled.

"But the Army are out as well," the smaller man added warningly. "They're after the Night Fury." There was a growl.

"I have been after that dragon all my life," Dagur growled. "That Night Fury will be mine!"


	6. The Hunt

**Six: The Hunt**

Gustav became aware eyes were on him when he ran his errands in the morning and found Alvin's men almost everywhere he went. He knew that he was a marked man-even though he was only a twelve year old boy-because his father had been accused of cheating at cards, in debt and then murdered by Dagur and his older sister was held hostage by the same man. The boy had been allowed to roam free in the town because he couldn't go anywhere-and because the townsfolk of Berk had taken the young boy to their heart. Acting as impromptu errand-boy, page-boy for weddings and funerals (far more of the latter than the former, to be honest), baker's assistant and general dogsbody, Gustav was always willing to help, even though he was homeless and worried for his sister every single day.

He had finished helping Sven the Silent get the loaves out of his oven and was running bread back for Gobber and the twins when he heard the words 'Get 'im-Alvin wants the brat as hostage!'. Grey eyes popping, the boy sidled round the back of the bakery and saw three armed Outcasts waiting for him. He ducked back and wondered what he could do…and then he heard a _psst!_ He glanced around wildly-and saw the twins crawling round the back of the bakery.

"What are you doing?" he hissed. Ruff looked up.

"Looking for you," she hissed back. "Al's men seem to be on your tail…"

"Well spotted!" Gustav said sarcastically.

"And we all know that isn't good news, G!" Tuff muttered from the floor. "C'mon…we oughtta get you out of here…" Startled but trusting the crazy twins, Gustav dropped to his knees and began to crawl between the two undertakers. They scrambled between the barrels of beer, sacks of grain and bales of wood to reach the edge of the plaza. There were still a number of men between them and the saloon…and no safe way round. Ruff drew back and gestured to the boy and her brother hauled back into the shadows, tapping along the barrels until they found one only a quarter full. With a sigh, they poured the beer away and shoved the boy into the damp and malty space, then began to carry the barrel away from the bakery. The men peered intently at the bakery as the twins sneaked past them.

They were both laughing hard as they arrived in the yard behind the forge and saloon and dropped the barrel, helpless at the dumb expressions on Alvin's men's faces. There was a long pause and then Gustav hammered on the barrel to be let out. After a pause, they remembered they were supposed to be rescuing him so they prised the top off the barrel and let the damp and beer-stained boy out. He staggered around dizzily and then handed them their rather crushed bread. He gave a wave, took two steps and collapsed onto his face.

"Oops? G?" Tuff asked in an almost apologetic voice.

"What've ye done tae the laddie now?" Gobber grumbled, limping out of the forge and picking up his dusty and beer-soaked bread. "Hmm…I see Sven has tried a new flavour…beer. Well, it beats cockroach…" He dragged the boy up and peered into the dazed eyes.

"Hey, Gobber," the boy murmured. "Mind if I stay here a while?" Frowning, the old blacksmith peered at the twins.

"Don't look at us!" Ruff protested. "Al's men are after him. I suspect Snotface is trying to find some way to persuade Astrid to join him in the Outcast compound…"

"As if she has any say about staying with Dagur," Gobber sighed. "Egil Hofferson was a good man and never even _played_ poker, let alone cheated! Dagur then murdered him before he could appeal to the visiting Marshal and took the girl as hostage-against Gustav's life and the supposed 'debt'. Kidnapping Gustav wouldn't work but would torment that poor family and lass more…" He turned to the boy who was trying to flatten his beery black hair. "Kid, you can stay here as long as you want…just try to stay out of trouble…" Gustav gave his cheeky grin.

"Do my best, Gobber!" he said cheerfully. "Don't wanna be a pain…" And then he paused. "It's a shame Ryder isn't here any more. He was cool." Scratching his chin thoughtfully with his hook, Gobber stared automatically up at the shuttered window of the room he had occupied.

"Aye-he's a cool customer alright," he murmured and cast a glance at his stable. "And I fear he may have gotten himself mixed up in something even he can't handle…"

oOo

Ryder stirred along with the others though he had been awake since the visitors arrived, quietly listening to everything he could. The men-Dragon Hunters, he presumed-had inspected the haul so far and been disappointed that they had slaughtered the male Gronckle, though they had committed to buy the hide and bones. The men were clearly long-time colleagues of the Berserker brothers and were experienced and ruthless dragon trappers: they seemed well-informed about the prey on offer and well-armed. Another six of their men had arrived with heavy trapping equipment before the men were up and Ryder picked his moment before opening his eyes and 'stirring'. The moment he moved, Kjetil-the Head Wrangler-beckoned him over and set him to making breakfast and he set to quietly, keeping his head down and stirring the pot. Berserker food was somewhat limited: every meal comprised beans and dried yak meat with black rye bread. With a sigh, he dolloped portions onto the tin plates and handed them round the men, taking his share and poking the sloppy mess with his spoon then settling back against Hookfang.

Dagur leaned closer the the slightly smaller of the two Trapper brothers-Viggo-and smirked. "So will my dragon be with me by nightfall?" he asked eagerly and the man rolled his dark eyes, his short dark hair and dark stripe of a beard neatly manicured.

"That depends on where the damned thing is," he reminded the Berserker. "Night Furies are fast, elusive, very stealthy and almost extinct. And the army is after this one."

"Then we need to get a move on!" Dagur said, the cold entering his voice. The larger Trapper-Ryker-scowled. Shaven-headed with the same weird stripe of s beard down the centre of his chin, the man's dark eyes narrowed.

"We are just waiting for your wranglers to get their lazy asses in gear!" he growled, causing Dagur to turn to the men who were frantically trying to swallow their food before their boss ordered them up. Cold green eyes alighted on a lean shape.

"You-Ryder! Get the dragons ready now to move out!" With a roll of the eyes, he scrambled up and headed for the dragons, making sure they were all ready to fly…and then he froze, his eyes sweeping over the Trappers' packs and picking out the device…stamped onto the leather of their packs and branded onto the scales of their dragons. It was a shape he recalled as clear as day from that day…the shape he had stared at after they had broken him, left him lying close to death…helpless… _useless_ …as they had raped and murdered the woman he loved. He lifted his head, staring at the packs with all conscious thoughts leaving his mind except one: he had to find the men who attacked them five years ago. He knew from the voices it hadn't been Viggo and Ryker-he would have recognised them instantly-but they clearly employed a number of men and there was chance he could find a clue to who had committed the crimes.

Wordlessly, he walked forward, nodding to the others that their dragons were ready to fly. He was trembling with fury, his muscles tense and senses on alert as he mounted up on Hookfang, watching Dagur swing into the Skrill's saddle. He noted the man wore an insulated saddle and gloves as he kicked the very belligerent and ornery dragon into the air. Hookfang was quickly up after, held back by Ryder as Savage and Vorg and the Trappers shot past him, Ryker casting him a deeply hostile expression. He could feel the Monstrous Nightmare pulling and knew the young dragon was headstrong, but Ryder knew his place-lowest man in the pecking order-and was keen to keep it that way. At the back, there was no one behind him to stab him in the back…and it was easier to keep an eye on the others.

They rose into the cold morning sky. It was a clear day with watery sun and no clouds, just cold winds and dust swirling. Ryder had his scarf across his face-partly to keep the dust out of his mouth and nose and partly to prevent himself being recognised if one of the attackers was in the Trappers grouping…though he doubted any of his attackers would connect the skinny, brutalised young farmer he had been with the sarcastic and taciturn gunslinger he had become. But he remembered…every single second of the ordeal…and even the surprisingly warm poncho couldn't prevent him from shivering.

A screech alerted him, dopplering in from behind along with a high pitched whistle/whine as a sleek black shape shot past him, mere feet above his head. His grip on Hookfang's horns tightened and he ducked, the impact of the air almost throwing him from the young dragon. Hookfang roared in anger and agitation as Ryder dragged the head back and they climbed after the unmistakable shape of the Night Fury. All in black, the creature had large bat-like wings, a blunt head and muzzle with short, thick neck and long sinuous tail with symmetrical tail fins for balance. Leaning low over the Nightmare's neck, he kicked his dragon after the Night Fury, seeing it head towards to distant red stone ridge and the butte behind. As he closed, the dragon spun on a wingtip, flipped his wings lazily and rocketed round and past Ryder. Gritting his teeth, he flung the Nightmare round in an impossible turn and accelerated after the Night Fury.

Dagur was racing after them as well, his skill on his Skrill the equal of Ryder's. Both dragons were similar in speed-though neither was quite the match for the elusive Strike Class dragon they sought. The others were left behind as Ryder leaned lower over his dragon's neck and accelerated.

"That dragon is mine!" the Berserker shouted at him and Ryder gave a grim nod.

"You wanted dragons capturing…and that one must be worth more than anything else…" he shouted back. "And where are the rest of the men, Dagur? We need back-up to outflank something this fast and smart!"

"How do you know?" Dagur shouted at him.

"I used to farm and wrangle dragons!" Ryder shouted back. "This dragon is far smarter than any of the others-including yours. And way smarter than all of your men put together! You can't expect it to just fly into a bola trap-it'll dodge!"

"Let me be the judge of that…" Dagur growled, his face furious. "Fall back! Let the professionals deal with this…" And he turned and waved to the Trappers. Viggo waved an arm and his men closed on the Night Fury, bola catapults mounted on their heavy dragons. At Ryker's command, a flurry of bolas shot up at the Night Fury…but the dragon easily dinked away, screeching furiously and turning, focussing on the most dangerous dragon-and hence the most dangerous enemy. The Skrill roared and the Night Fury roared back, the sound hurting the inside of Ryder's ears. He grimaced, holding Hookfang back…and then reading the challenge. The Night Fury's large green eyes focussed, the pupils narrow slits and its wide maw opened, its throat beginning to glow purple with plasma…

"Oh shit…" Ryder growled and threw Hookfang into a dive. Dagur was shouting at the Trappers at their ineffectiveness and never saw the plasma blast-until he felt the impact of Ryder hitting him and knocking him from the saddle as the Night Fury's plasma blast seared past them. The younger man bit down on a scream as he felt fire lance through his left arm and shoulder and then they were falling. He wrapped his arm around Dagur, who was writhing and cursing.

"HOOKFANG!" he screamed and the Monstrous Nightmare dived rapidly down, spinning and swooping under the plunging men, catching them deftly feet above the sandy ground and soaring up as the Night Fury arrowed away to the north. Grimacing, Ryder flew them back to the howling Skrill and dropped the cursing and screaming Dagur back onto his dragon.

"I should kill you for that!" he threatened.

"I just saved your Gods-forsaken life!" Ryder groaned, his hand gripping his burn. _Why the Hel did I do that?_ he added silently but in his heart he knew: he needed Dagur alive to keep the Trappers close…and his prey, the men who killed his wife…within reach. That was everything…even if it meant saving the craziest sonova bitch this side of the ocean. Dagur leered at him and glanced at Savage. The man looked embarrassed but nodded once. "Night Furies are far the smartest dragon," he repeated gruffly. "You need to outflank them and drive them into a trap they don't suspect!" Below them, hovering on his own Nightmare and wearing a very calculating look, Viggo was nodding.

"It's headed north, past Loki's Valley," he said. "We can cut it off if we head through Raven Pass…" Dagur nodded.

"I don't care what you do or how you do it, just get me my Night Fury!" he screamed. Then his mad, pale eyes snapped round to glare at Ryder. "And you-if you have cost me my Night Fury, I will add five thousand dollars to your debt!" Breathing hard, Ryder stared after the insane man, his spirits plummeting.

"I should have let the dragon crisp you," he muttered as he kicked Hookfang after him.

The black shape of the Night Fury was idling, soaring on the thermals over the baked rocks in the desert landscape. The place was as barren as the backside of the moon and the alien black shape of the rarest dragon was flipping and soaring with uncanny grace as the posse of Dragon Trappers closed on him. Flying at the back, Ryder saw the movement of the flaps on its head and knew the creature was listening. They weren't sneaking up on it…it was toying with them. But why was it here at all? Surely the creature knew the place was rife with Trappers, after its body or bones…and then he felt a sudden pang of sympathy. Maybe this truly was the last of its kind? Was it, in fact, all alone? No matter where it went, it was hunted and attacked. Perhaps, the creature had given up and was accepting its fate?

Dagur was laughing in excitement and shouting for Viggo and Ryker to get the dragon. Their men were shouting replies…and Ryder stiffened, hearing one voice he recognised-a big, buff guy with pale brown hair and bulbous features, his small dark eyes topping a scarred face. Breathing accelerating, his vision flashed with memory…

… _you're a feisty one, aren't you boy? You don't want us near your girl? Then you need to entertain us in her place…_

 _…_ _he could recall the man's voice, the taunts and sneers, the feel of his touch, his own screams, over and over, the unending pain…_

 _…_ _the sadistic enjoyment in his cruel, dark eyes as he turned his brutal attentions onto Heather's trembling shape…_

And his hand tightened on his pistol, ignoring the pain in his burnt shoulder. Bolas were flying, the Night Fury was roaring and dragons were scattering as the Night Fury dodged the bolas again and attacked them. A flurry of plasma blasts scattered the group and there was chaos: dragons flapping anywhere frantically, crashing and almost colliding. The air was thick with obscenities. Seeing his chance, Ryder leaned forward. Hookfang arrowed down and ripped the big trapper from his Gronckle as they dived away from the melee. The man was screaming as they swooped in a tight loop, throwing the man onto a very narrow ridge, far too high above the valley floor and just wide enough to stand on. The action was all behind and way above them as Ryder hovered just in front of the Trapper on the Monstrous Nightmare. He could feel Hookfang growling.

"I'll kill you for this!" the big man shouted, reaching for his gun-but found himself looking at the well-worn muzzle of Ryder's pistol.

"What, treating you to a first class view of the hopeless battle between idiots and very smart dragon? Men would pay good money for this!" he shouted back as the sounds of plasma blasts and shouts sounded, echoing round the horseshoe-shaped valley.

"What're you trying to prove, skinny?" the man sneered, still not really cognoscent of his situation.

"Lemme think? I can capture a man from midair and trap him on a ledge…check. I can hold him hostage while none of his colleagues have noticed…check. I can shoot his fat ass into the Helheim…" He cocked his pistol.

"My friends will kill you for this!" the man threatened desperately.

"You already tried," Ryder called back, his voice arctic. "Five years ago. You failed. But you got my wife…" Memory suddenly flooded the man's face-followed by a nasty sneer that made Ryder's blood boil in his chest.

"You…were that scrawny little bastard?" he scorned. "Gods, after what we did with you, I'm shocked you survived. But your gal gave us a really good time…"

"Give me their names…" The tone was rough, emerald eyes filled with hatred. The man felt a sudden gust of wind and his eyes widened in terror, dropping his gun and hands desperately scrabbling at the scant purchase the ledge offered.

"No-you gotta promise not to kill me…" the man screamed. Ryder kept his gun levelled at the man.

"Really?" he shouted. "You think I did all this to pat you on the head and tell you not to do it again?"

"You'll never find the others if I don't tell you their names!" the man whimpered.

"Speak…" Ryder growled. "I don't have to kill you quickly…"

"You have to promise…" the men screamed desperately, his hands slipping. Ryder continued hovering for a long moment.

"Okay," he said, grimacing as he holstered his pistol. "But there's a lot of wind round here and you don't look too steady…"

"P-promise…" the man whimpered.

 _…_ _promise me you'll let her go…take me instead…just don't hurt her…_

"I promise I will not kill you…" he growled.

"Lars Forsbeg, Svein Knutsen and Ragnar Haraldssen!" the man begged him pitifully. "Please, I'm slipping…"

"Well, a bunch of names is _sooo_ helpful," Ryder shouted, backing Hookfang away. "Boy, this was a great deal. Lemme think…just got the whole fucking badlands to search for these losers…"

"No!" the man squeaked. "You gotta help me…"

 _…_ _please…no…h-help…_

"Why? Helping really ain't your thing," Ryder growled.

"Because I'll die…"

 _The echo of the shot…the soft sigh…then nothing…_

"Then make it worth my while. Where are they?" Ryder insisted through the red haze of hatred.

"Lars is still with the Grimborns…Svein is now with the Outcasts and Ragnar is a Berserker!" the man screamed, his fingers slipping. "Please…" Ryder backwinged away. "Wait…you promised to help me!" the man screamed.

"I never promised to help you…I just promised not to kill you," the stranger said as the sounds of roars and bolas being fired grew louder. The Night Fury roared and instinctively, Hookfang threw himself backwards as a wild plasma blast hit the rock face just by the man, pitching him from the ledge and down to the ground, far below. The scream dopplered away as Ryder hung in the air.

"Never promised I'd save you," he repeated coldly then turned as he heard shots and shouts. As the Monstrous Nightmare turned, he saw the Berserkers and Trappers retreating as a hail of bullets warned them off and nets wrapped around the black dragon. The Night Fury gave a mournful wail as it was ensnared and plummeted to the ground below. Figures in Army uniform settled round the stunned but writhing dragon and the Trappers pulled back, unwilling to attack superior numbers and risk conflict with the army.

"My Night Fury!" Dagur shouted as they wrapped it in ropes and hauled it onto the regulation issue dragon harvesting carts.

"Brother-you can't fight the Army!" Savage reminded him urgently and Vorg flew his Nadder in front of the Skrill as well, trying to calm their insane sibling. Enraged, Dagur cast around for someone to blame…and his eyes alighted on the scruffy shape, listing slightly on the Monstrous Nightmare.

"You!" he shouted at Ryder. "You were to blame!"


	7. Debts

**Seven: Debts.**

"You lost my Night Fury!" Dagur screamed at Ryder and the man just stared at him, mouth agape.

"Sorry-how did I do that? Oh wait-I wished up a bunch of army soldiers to snatch him from our grasp!" he snapped back sarcastically. Dagur fumbled for his gun.

"You mouthy streak of…" he began as Ryder dropped his hand to the butt of his pistol as well.

"Then what _were_ you doing?" Viggo asked him, his eyes locking on the battered shape. Ryder gave a small shrug.

"I saw one of your men knocked from his dragon in the melee and I went after him. He was on a ledge but before I could grab him, one of the stray Night Fury blasts took him out…"

"YOU WORK FOR ME!" Dagur screamed.

"Sorry, I thought we were working together!" Ryder called back, grimacing as he grabbed at his injured arm.

"So did I," Viggo growled and turned his glare back on the Berserker leader. Dagur pouted like a sulky child.

"Shall I just go and find you another one?" Ryder asked and Dagur glared at him.

"You belong to me! You work for me! And you will do exactly what I say or I will kill your wretched dragon!" Dagur roared. Flapping backwards, Ryder glared at him icily.

"Yeah, you're good at that," he commented.

"Dagur! Daylight is wasting and our profits aren't increasing! Either we attack the army or we go hunting for other dragons that we can put through the auctions!" Ryker shouted at him from Viggo's side, their matching Nightmares flapping their wings in perfect unison.

"Fine-you go find some more boring and very uninteresting and _common_ dragons while those soldiers get away with my _glorious_ Night Fury!" he grumbled. "We're going back. And you…" He glared at Ryder. "You cost me my Night Fury so you can owe me the market value…five thousand!" Ryder stared at him.

"How-how did you come up with that?" he asked. "I mean, I had nothing to do with losing your dragon. Maybe you should send the bill to the Army…though I doubt that they'd cough up five thousand for a dragon you never owned and they have captured for their own reasons!"

"But you belong to me," Dagur shouted at him, his eyes fey with rage. "And that means I decide your fate-and how much you owe me. You knew the deal when you accepted it, Ryder. Don't try to worm out of it now…you won't like the consequences!"

"I already don't like the consequences," he growled. "Some thanks for saving your life, Dagur! I should have let your precious Night Fury blast you to ashes!" The Berserker started and his eyes narrowed…but Savage leaned close and spoke to him. There was a brief argument, out of earshot from the watching Ryder and then Dagur gave a growl.

"Get back to the compound!" he shouted. There were groans: it was a long flight and they would be back close to nightfall. "And you-get that shoulder seen to. I'm not having you slacking off!"

"Definitely should've let that dragon crisp him," Ryder muttered as they turned back to Berk.

oOo

It was dusk when they arrived back and though he had to stable and feed Hookfang, Vorg had repeated Dagur's orders. Reluctantly, Ryder sat in the little room overlooking the yard. He really wasn't keen on having the burn treated because he always tended himself, but Dagur had insisted-because Ryder had saved his life. The stranger was already regretting the action for the penalty that had been levied on him when his day got even worse and Astrid walked in, holding a bowl of water and a box of bandages and ointments. He groaned.

"Ah, service with a smile," he commented dryly as he stiffened and her face adopted a very unfriendly expression.

"You!" she said coldly. He made to get up.

"Yeah," he said dryly. "Look, you don't have to put yourself out. I'll be…"

"Dagur commanded me to treat your burn so I really have no choice," she said angrily and he almost cringed at her tone. It didn't promise gentle hands or caring treatment.

"Seriously…"

"I seriously need to get on with this so take your shirt off!" she snapped and he sighed, then winced as he shrugged off his vest and eased the shirt over his shoulders.

"Can't resist all this raw gunslinger, huh?" he quipped.

"Not having any trouble with that _at all_ ," she spat back, her blue eyes narrowing as she inspected the deep burn across the shoulder and upper arm, noting the tightening of the young man's features. She grabbed a rag and dipped it in the warm water before dabbing away at the wound. Ryder hissed, looking away, his arm tensing. She paused, reading far more pain than he was willing to admit and she unconsciously paused, trying to be more gentle. He wasn't bulky but lean muscles rippled slightly as he moved, his smooth skin marred by old burns and scars and she found herself wondering what this ruffian had been through. She shook herself: he was just another piece of vagrant trash that Dagur had hired and none of her business.

"This isn't the first time you've been burnt," she murmured. He flicked his green gaze up: he really did have mesmerising forest green eyes.

"Nope. Working with dragons tends to do that," he said dryly. "The fact one end shoots fire is a clue, to be honest…"

"Is everything some sarcastic comment with you?" she snapped.

"Well, Milady, I've spent years getting this good so it's a shame to waste it," he shot back then hissed as she jabbed the burn hard. "Oww! I can see the nursing career ain't gonna end well."

"You can tend it yourself, you pig!" she hissed and threw the cloth at him. He caught it effortlessly with his other hand and gave a self-conscious smile.

"What I was expecting anyhow," he admitted and quietly turned to the bowl, dipping the cloth in and carefully dabbing at the wound. He grimaced but methodically cleaned the wound, then flicked his gaze up to see her watching him. "Um…making me a little uncomfortable here, Milady Astrid. If you're not going to help, could you give me some privacy?"

"I can't," she snapped. "I have been ordered to treat you and I can't leave until you're treated…"

"Even though you're not treating me?" he asked her sarcastically. "Why does no one in this damned place make any sense?"

"You don't understand!" she shouted at him, her face filled with frustration.

"Then enlighten me," he told her, laying the cloth down and wrestling with the ointment jar. With a sigh, she grabbed it from him and flipped the top off, then took a generous helping and began to smooth the soothing cream into the raw wound. She was breathing hard, her azure gaze focussed on the burn.

"I'm a hostage here," she said quietly. "I'm not here of choice. Dagur…claimed my father lost a substantial sum at poker…claimed he had a huge debt that he had to repay…"

"How much?" he murmured. She looked up into his sympathetic eyes.

"Ten thousand," she said defeatedly. He winced. "Sorry," she added, thinking she had jarred his wound. "My father, who was so religious he never gambled a day in his life, whose faith never wavered even after our mother passed, supposedly just gambled away the value of our house and farm and his only daughter? I don't believe it! And he always protested it was a lie but, of course, Dagur could produce his Gods damned brothers as supposed witnesses who swore blind to the truth of his allegations. And because my father was _never there_ he had no counter witnesses. And then Dagur claimed he attacked him just before the Marshal was due to ride into town-the Marshal who my father wanted to appeal to with his case-and so Dagur shot him dead."

Her hands were shaking and he gently caught her wrist, his thumb stroking the back of her hand, the skin soft under his calloused thumb. "I'm sorry," he murmured, seeing her eyes shine with anger and sorrow. She blinked and pulled her hand away.

"I was left as the person responsible for the debt," she said bitterly. "So Dagur insisted I live with him to meet our obligations. My brother was thrown out onto the streets-though the people of Berk look out for him…"

"Brother?" His tone was thoughtful.

"Gustav. He's twelve…"

"That cheeky kid with black hair and bright eyes and holes in his elbows?" Ryder asked and unwillingly, a smile lifted her lips.

"I see you've met him," she said and he nodded, a lopsided smile lifting his mouth.

"Reminds me of me," he admitted. "So can't you sneak out and grab him…then go?"

"On what?" she snapped, voice sharper than before. "I don't have a dragon and Dagur will hunt us down wherever we go," she sighed. "He'll never let us go…and if I try to do anything that he doesn't like, he threatens to kill Gustav…" He tilted his face slightly and read the despair in her beautiful face.

"That Nadder likes you," he murmured.

"I'll never get her," she sighed. For a moment she looked away and her eyes shone with despair. "And Dagur…" He leaned closer.

"What does he do?" he asked her gently and she blinked.

"Whatever he wants," she said tonelessly and he felt his stomach tighten with anger. Then she blinked and stared into his face. "It's not your business anyway…" He masked the flinch her words caused and shrugged as she began to wind crisp bandages around the wounds.

"I reckon not," he managed, "though you're not the only one he traps. When he missed that damned dragon, he put my debt up by five thousand. No matter what I do, I reckon he'll keep adding stuff on so I'll never be free of him." She swung her gaze back to him. He managed a slightly twisted smile. "Unless I shoot him first," he added. She pulled the bandage tight and he hissed.

"That kind of talk could get you killed!" she advised him.

"Staying here will probably get me killed anyway," he told her calmly. "A professional job. Thanks, Milady…" She caught his hand and she felt his fingers briefly tighten around hers.

"Ryder isn't your real name, is it?" she said suddenly. Meeting her blue gaze and seeing the faint despondency in her beautiful eyes, he sighed.

"No shit," he murmured. He paused for a second. "It's Hiccup. Great, I know. Good old traditional name…"

"For scaring away gnomes and trolls," she smiled, reading the vague embarrassment in his face. He found himself wanting to see the expression more.

"Touché…Miss _Divine Beauty…_ " he riposted. She lowered her head and the smile warmed her face for a second longer.

"I won't betray your secret…Hiccup…" she murmured gently. He blinked: _why had he done that?_ After he lost… _her_ …he had sworn never to let anyone get close, never risk himself by exposing his heart to anyone…but she was as trapped as he had been, almost as abused as… _she_ …had been…and with as little hope of rescue as he had, five years ago. He pulled his shirt on with a small hiss and fumbled the buttons closed, peering at her face. There was just a little light in her eyes that hadn't been there before, a tiny spark of hope that had ignited from speaking to someone who treated her like a human being, not a possession.

"Hey, works for me…Milady Astrid," he teased her softly, his green eyes sparkling. "And if I get any chance to get you out of here…I will…" She stared up at him for a moment, then bowed her head.

"Thanks," she said, her voice low again. She dully gathered up her bandages then sighed. "We both know that won't happen…but thanks," she murmured, putting her head down and walking out of the room. Easing his vest back on, he ruffled his dark auburn hair and stared after her.

"I promise you, before I leave this place, I will get you free," he muttered. "Because when we were in your place, there was no one to help…"

oOo

He sneaked out after sunset because he had duties as well and walked confidently across the plaza to the hostel. There were lamps on in the saloon and as he walked in, he came face to face with Gobber…and Stoick. He froze, his hand hovering over his gun and breathed hard, then took a step back.

"Evening, Gobber-see I fail the weight minimum for this evening," he said automatically, his emerald gaze sweeping across the two very hefty shapes seated at the table by two plates of whatever disgusting mess Gobber had whipped up with his non-existent culinary skills and a bottle of his certifiably lethal rotgut. "And I'll pass on the mead."

"Laddie…" Gobber said, his eyes wary, flicking a look to his friend. The Sheriff remained motionless, his black clothed shape stiff and his expression angry.

"I won't intrude 'cause-hey, I know the Sheriff there ain't my biggest fan," Ryder said with a small smile. "I'll just sneak into the stable before Dagur realises I've gone…" And with that he strode rapidly through the kitchen and out into the yard, grabbing a small lamp on the way. Gobber sighed and rose, though Stoick grabbed his arm.

"Leave him," he growled but Gobber shook him off and lumbered to his feet. "He's just another stone-hearted killer." His blue eyes inspected his friend before he turned after the younger man.

"He's not stone-hearted," Gobber said with conviction, "but he is very damaged. He's smart, sarcastic and very fast with a gun…not a great combination…and he's only with Dagur to pay the debt he incurred to try to treat his dragon…" Stoick glanced up at him.

"Try?" he murmured.

Ryder wrestled the door of the stable open, grimacing at the pressure on his bandaged burn and slid in, lifting his lamp and smiling as he turned…to see nothing.

He froze. There was no sound, no warmth, no dragon. He cast around, seeing a handful of scales in the stall where he had left Red, dully red and brown and black. His heart in his throat, he crouched down and lifted them up, turning them over in his hand and then pocketing them automatically. He turned to the door and out into the cold plaza…to meet Gobber.

"Where is he?" he asked directly. "Has Fishlegs moved him to another stable?"

"I'm sorry, laddie," the old blacksmith said. Ryder stared at him.

"S-sorry?" he echoed, his heart missing a beat. "No…"

"He went yesterday afternoon," the old blacksmith told him as the young gunslinger shook his head in denial, terrible hurt showing briefly in his luminous green eyes.

"No…" he murmured as he closed his eyes. "Where is he?" He swallowed and suddenly vulnerable eyes stared at the older man, a desperate plea very briefly visible.

"He's safe, laddie," Gobber reassured him. "The twins and Gustav buried him last night. Admittedly, they were up most o' the night in digging the hole, but I knew ye wouldnae wish him cut up by merchants…" Ryder nodded dumbly.

"How much do I owe you?" he asked tonelessly. Gobber patted his shoulder kindly with his real hand, his breath coming in little clouds in the frosty night.

"Nothing, lad," he reassured him. Ryder's face twisted into a grim smile and he reached his hand into his vest, drawing out another fifty dollars, pressing them determinedly into the old man's hand.

"Everything has its price," he murmured. "And I'm paying a high one for the last chance to save my friend. So take this…" He shoved the money harder into the older man's hand. "Give it to the twins or use it to light a cheroot for all I care!" He turned away. "Thank you for looking after him," he added as he slid through the gate in the fence and headed back to the Berserker Compound. Gobber stared after him, his own throat thick with sympathy.

"I'm sorry, laddie," he murmured. "Because I fear now, you ha' no one at all."


	8. Captives

**Eight: Captives**

"Nowhere?" Alvin roared, his fist crashing into the table and smashing a delicate porcelain teacup. His wife, Bente, tutted and picked up the pieces, then bustled out. Alvin snorted and kicked Snotlout. "Feet off the table, boy!" he growled.

"I don't see why…" the boy complained but Alvin swatted the back of his head with a heavy hand.

"Because my beloved wife believes a businessman should appear to be affluent and mannered!" he shouted…then dropped his voice. "And she'll kill me if I let you put muddy bootprints on her French lace tablecloth! I was lectured _for an hour_ last time…" His face was twisted in a grimace and Snotlout suppressed the smile that rose every time he was reminded that the fearsome Outcast leader was terrified of his small but incredibly stern wife. Alvin had married Bente as a very canny business move-she was the only heir to an affluent and very well-heeled family that would provide him with valuable resources to expand his business-but he had found himself fond of her. They had never managed to produce an heir of their own but Bente more than made up for it in supporting her husband and running an efficient house that terrified his men…and their leader. She lent him respectability and bent his ear on a regular basis.

"So the boy hasn't been seen for four days?" Snotlout repeated.

"Not since Gunnar, Hans and Pal all missed him at the Bakery," Alvin growled.

"Al-you really gotta hire some better men," Snotlout grinned, grabbing a scone and shoving it into his mouth, spraying crumbs onto the Persian Rug.

"Hmm…Dagur pays more…and his men are as yak-brained as mine," the Outcast leader grumbled, grabbing the porcelain teapot and sloshing a fresh cupful of tea out. He attempted to hold the cup delicately and spilled half the tea over his huge beard. He rolled his eyes. "So who's likely to have the boy. The Sheriff?"

"My Uncle is unlikely to shield him, to be honest," Snotlout admitted lazily, grabbing another scone. "He never got over losing his wife and son…and then, when I decided that you were a better bet, I think that was the final straw!"

"Yer a good lad, Snotlout," Alvin said approvingly. "Yer've really taken ter the Outcast way of life! And yer'll be a great arms dealer when I finally decides ter hang up me gun and hand on the business ter yer!"

"And all we need to do first is dispose of the damned Berserker scum and get my Princess!" Snotlout decided and sat forward. "So if it's not Stoick, then who? Most of the villagers are just busy keeping their heads down…"

"GOBBER!" both men said at the same time. They shared a knowing glance.

"That fat two-limbed lunatic!" Alvin exclaimed.

"Interfering bastard!" Snotlout commented. "I can just see him shielding the brat in that health hazard he calls a hostel!" He rose. "I think I may just take a walk to see if I can find any sign of him…" He tipped his black hat and walked out, slamming the door. Alvin winced, imagining what his wife would say and drained his cup with a sigh. He could see the problem that Snotlout couldn't…because though the younger man was vicious and self-interested, he wasn't the sharpest weapon in the armoury…

"Yer know, just grabbin' the boy ain't gonna get the girl," he murmured. "We gotta really get something that Dagur really wants…"

oOo

Ryder kept a close watch on Dagur and reckoned the man was planning something. Viggo had flown in two days after they lost the Night Fury, staying for a few hours and clearly conducting some business…and his brother and the men had flown in with a haul of dragons, mainly Boulder class…though the young Monstrous Nightmare they brought in shot a pang of pain through Ryder's chest. He had threaded the handful of scales from Red on a simple leather cord and they now hung around his neck, tucked under his shirt.

Astrid blanked him as a matter of course, giving no sign of the brief flash of vulnerability she had revealed when treating his wound. She looked unhappy and Ryder watched her anger and bitterness grow-especially whenever Dagur took to pawing her in public. The fact she was commanded to sleep in his room suggested he pawed her in private as well…and that thought curiously made Ryder more angry than he understood. He knew it was none of his business and that every drop of sanity was telling him that getting involved with Astrid was very dangerous…but seeing her so beaten down and abused made his blood boil.

He had continued tending the dragons because the wranglers didn't mind and would take any help if it meant they had less work to do and more time to spend downing mead and playing poker. It meant he could get close to whichever dragons he wanted…Hookfang, the pretty blue and gold Nadder who was called Stormfly…and Dagur's Skrill. The Skrill was extremely unfriendly, snapping at anyone who came near and growling at Ryder as a matter of course. The dragon had to be kept in a cage with a foot of saltwater in the base because the dragon shot lightning, not fire and even Dagur wasn't stupid enough to want his dragon electrocuting all his men. Almost…

But he had a major problem-5500 of them in fact. The debt he owed to Dagur, most of which was totally unfair. It crystallised his resolve to kill the man when it finally became necessary…but first he had a few scores to settle…and they started with the men who had attacked them, five years earlier. One man was a smear at the bottom of Raven Pass but he had three more men to locate…and one was somewhere in the Berserker compound.

Before he could make much more of a move, he watched a convoy ride into town, dragons flanking a sturdy cage with a single black muzzled inhabitant. The Colonel raised his arm and the entire twenty man troop pulled to a precise halt, their blue-shaded Nadders all in line, tails all raised at precisely the exact same angle. Their buttons gleamed in the sun and dark blue uniforms were lightly dusted with orange grit as they rode through the town, heading towards the Berserker Compound. Ryder slid out the main door and stationed himself to one side as the Colonel rapped on the gates. Though he was watching the army trappers, his emerald gaze flicked to the hostel and saw the bulky shape of Gobber limp out onto the verandah…accompanied by a scruffy jet-haired shape: Gustav.

His mind flashed back to a pair of azure eyes and a pair of lips tilted in a small, genuine smile. Then he blinked: he needed to pay attention as the brothers walked out, Dagur in the centre. The cold pale green eyes almost popped out of his head as he saw the muzzled Night Fury, baleful green eyes glaring at him and everyone else who was staring in shock at the captured beast.

"My Night Fury!" he exclaimed and almost ran forward until his brothers wrestled him back-with some difficulty.

"Sir, this beast is the property of the Government!" the Colonel snapped. "It is a valuable natural resource that should prove invaluable when trained and mated to produce Fury hybrids…since there appear to be no females left of this species…"

"But it's mine…" Dagur whined and Savage got Vorg and Bucket to drag his crazed brother back.

"How can we tend assistance, Colonel?" he asked politely, raising his voice to drown out a stream of curses from his brother. The Colonel cocked an eyebrow at the oldest brother and sighed.

"This creature is very valuable and we need to restrain it in a facility where my men can get some adequate rest-and your Merchants' premises should be capable of keeping it safe until we can roll out in the morning," he said. Savage gave a forced smile-more like a slimy grimace-and gestured into the compound.

"It would our total honour to help our noble military in keeping the valuable resource safe…for the benefit of our beloved country!" he said greasily. "Please…come through to the secure section. I am certain we have a cage available for your prize…"

"MY NIGHT FURY!" Dagur bellowed.

"…and we would be delighted to host your men in our compound as well…"

"I will, of course, have two men standing guard over the dragon," the Colonel said firmly, his intelligent hazel eyes inspecting the three brothers. Dagur's raging had him worried-but he had little choice. His men were exhausted and they needed a rest before they pushed on across the badlands, heading east to the nearest city of Meathead, where they could organise a train for the Capitol. Inspecting the rag-tag band of ruffians facing him, he resolved to sleep with one eye open as he sighed and beckoned his men to enter into the compound. The Night Fury gave a furious growl as it was wheeled in and Ryder narrowed his eyes, briefly meeting the furious glare of the trapped dragon. With a lazy movement, he stood up from his very lazy lean against the wall and trailed into the compound, a final look back noting Snotlout sitting on the corral fencing…and staring straight at Gustav. He frowned, then vanished after the rest of the Berserkers.

Snotlout's cold blue gaze fixed on the scruffy shape of the boy, leaning close to Gobber. The bulky blacksmith leaned close to the boy, whose wistful grey gaze trailed longingly in the direction of the Berserker compound, where his sister was being held. A reassuring arm around the skinny shape, Gobber led him back into the hostel, still talking quietly to him. Jumping from the fence, Snotlout walked thoughtfully back into the Outcast compound: he knew where he could find the boy now. All he had to do was pick his time…and then his Princess would be his.

oOo

The soldiers were on alert as they stayed in the Berserker compound…well, the officers were. Ryder noted the privates were far more relaxed and willingly shared their rations with standard Berserker beans and yak jerky (yes, they served it back home as well) and in return, the Berserker gang had shared their mead generously with the men. Soon, there were the sounds of raucous laughing and singing a number of very bawdy songs. Men were gaming, dancing and chatting happily while Ryder sat quietly at the back, sipping a small shot glass of mead, his forest green gaze calculating. Finally, he grabbed a bottle and a couple of glasses, then slid through the gates towards the men guarding the Night Fury.

The sharp snap of bolts pulling back had him adopting a smile, his hands raised and bottle and glasses obvious. "Hey, guys-hardly likely ta shoot you with a bottle of mead!" he grinned. "Just thought you'd appreciate a nip on a cold night like this…" The men lowered their rifles, though the older man shook his head.

"On duty," he said gruffly. With a sigh, Ryder gave a shrug-something his lanky shape was well suited for.

"Pity…because this bottle has your names on it…oh well-I'll just take it to your friends back out there…" He paused to deliberately allow the sounds of singing to echo through the secure section of the compound. "Sure they can enjoy it…"

"C'mon, Ove! A small mead won't go amiss!" the other man argued.

"The sarge will go mental if learns we've been drinking on duty, Trond!" the older man said stubbornly. Ryder laid the two glasses on the low wall by the two soldiers and sloshed the amber liquor in generously.

"I won't tell him," he purred seductively, "and he's being entertained by the brothers in any case. He'll be busy for _hours_!" With a nod, the men rested their rifles down and eagerly grasped the mead, both glugging the liquor down rapidly and not resisting when he refilled the glasses with a lazy smile.

"You're a decent fellow," Ove admitted, taking a long pull from the over-large bourbon glasses Ryder had filled with mead.

"Anything for our boys in blue," he smiled, refilling the glass. "Good work on capturing a Night Fury, by the way!"

"Who…told you that?" Trond asked suspiciously, accepting a refill. Ryder pointed to the black dragon, muzzled in the cage behind them.

"Um…I'm looking at it right now…unless you've dressed up a Terrible Terror to disguise it…" he pointed out. Ove stared back at the glaring dragon and burst out laughing.

"Terrible Terror?" he giggled and necked his mead again, then waved the glass drunkenly at the auburn-haired wrangler. "G'is a refill, mate! 'm gettin' parched here…"

"Oh, sorry-my mistake…" Ryder said with a grin and refilled him again, carefully topping up Trond's glass which he waved urgently until the amber liquor sloshed in.

"Yesh…it wash a very tricky hunt…" Trond slurred happily. "It wash very _very_ VERY _VER_ Y tricky…and then there wash them damned trappers trying to shteal our dragon…"

"But we-we showed them shcum…" Ove slurred and waved his glass around, then downed the lot.

"Boy-you guys can sure take your liquor…" Ryder commented, refilling them and wondering if he should've brought a second bottle: this one was almost empty.

"Yesh…we shouldiers are really _really_ tough…" Trond announced proudly. "And we can hold our drinksh better'n any of you guysh…" He hiccuped. Ove swatted at him and fell over.

"I shpilled my drink!" he whined and burst out laughing. Helpfully, Ryder poured the last of the mead into his glass and he swiftly drank it before it could escape. Trond slid down beside him and the two men began laughing helplessly as Ryder rested the bottle down.

"I'll just feed the dragon for you, okay?" he offered. Ove frowned slightly.

"We-we're not shposed ta feed the drag-drag-drag…thingy…" he slurred.

"Why?" Ryder asked, crouching down before him and looking thoughtful. Ove frowned and looked over to Trond, who had already passed out and was snoring loudly.

"Y'know…I'm…not…shure…" he murmured and passed out as well. Ryder sighed, tipped his hat back and looked up at the Night Fury, which was giving him a _that won't work on me, you know_ look. He smiled back at the dragon, locking his green gaze on the dragon's.

"It's okay, buddy," he murmured quietly. "I can't let you out because that may cost me my life…but I can get this muzzle off you and let you have something to eat and drink…but you gotta promise not to bite my hand off. I need 'em both…" The dragon gave a low growl as he quietly got up and fetched a couple of large fish from the bins, then walked cautiously to the cage. "Sorry-this thing is dragon-proof, bud. I can get your muzzle off but I know you can't blast your way out."

The Dragon growled at him and he hesitantly paused, then unfastened his gun belt and pushed it away, then removed his hat, showing his face to the dragon before reaching through and quietly unbuckling the leather muzzle, releasing the dragon. A low growl grew louder but the gunslinger lowered his head and looked away, leaving his hand extended, palm forward, exposed to the dragon.

And he flinched as he felt pressure on his wrist, felt the smooth sharp edge of teeth press into the skin of his wrist and he gritted his teeth.

"Well, this was the stupidest thing I've ever done," he muttered in a defeated voice. "Way to go, Hiccup! You lose your hand trying to train a supposedly extinct dragon that Dagur is never gonna let go!"

The pressure increased and he felt the sharp cut of teeth digging into his skin.

"Dammit-I'll try to get you out if I can…but I don't have the key!" he said abruptly, lifting his green gaze and staring into the dragon's narrowed pupils. "Look, you ungrateful lizard-take the damned fish, okay? I'm doing everything I can!" The dragon growled and the sharp pain in his wrist worsened…and finally his shoulders slumped. "Oh, go ahead…" Ryder sighed, defeatedly. "I know you're alone and you're fed up at being chased and you've probably given up but I am not trying to hurt you. I didn't trap you and I'm risking my ass to give you some food and water. Hel…I'm alone as well. My last friend just died and I have no one in the world as well. So bite my hand off, you ungrateful lizard. You won't get away and they'll still turn you into a slave or spare parts, I don't care which anymore."

And he dropped his head and gritted his teeth, awaiting the sudden horrible pain as it took his hand and regretting his gun was out of reach.

The pressure vanished, to be replaced by the warm huff of breath and then…the sudden pressure of a blunt, scaly muzzle against his palm. Warily, he lifted his head…to see the large green eyes with widely-dilated oblong pupils looking more calmly at him. There was a ring of red cuts around his bony wrist and he could see how close he had come to losing the hand.

"H-hey, bud…" he murmured, breathing hard and feeling lightheaded. The hand pressed against the muzzle was trembling and he lifted the other shaking hand to stroke the warm, scaly muzzle. "You…you had me worried there…I thought you were really gonna do it…" The dragon lifted his head and gave a gummy smile, abruptly looking like a bouncy puppy rather than a ferocious reptile. Still feeling dizzy, his brow furrowed as he peered at the dragon. "Toothless?" he murmured, his glance trailing over the red marks round his wrist. "I could've sworn you had…" And then teeth snapped down and he snatched his hands back. "…teeth!" he squeaked, grabbing the fish and cautiously feeding them to the dragon.

The dragon was really hungry and polished each large fish off in two huge bites. Breathing hard and still feeling his heart bounding in his chest, he rose and stumbled to the bins, grabbing three more large fish. Carefully, he fed them to the hungry dragon, then poured water into the shallow bowl and watched the Night Fury drink thirstily. Finally, when it had licked up all the water, the dragon gave a grateful purr, rubbing his head against Ryder's outstretched hand as the man slid down by the cage and sat on his heels.

"Better?" he murmured and the dragon nodded its head, crooning what could have been an apology and gently licking the little ring of cuts round his right wrist. The saliva was sticky and unpleasant but it was also soothing on the painful weals and he rested his head against the bars, feeling the vibrations through the bars. "Yeah, we all get grumpy…though I doubt most people nearly bite a friend's hand off if they just have a bad day…"

The dragon gave a sad croon.

"Okay, a _really_ bad day," the man said apologetically. "Look, if I could let you go, I really would. Dagur has charged me for losing you so I may as well earn that debt…but I guess the key to your cage is with your Colonel and he ain't gonna hand it over. And I've got no reason to crash the meal…"

The dragon gave a sad warble.

"Look-I'll try to think of something, bud…" Ryder sighed. "But until then, try not to get yourself killed, okay?" The dragon crooned as the man levered his lanky shape to his feet and picked up his hat and gun. "Yeah, I'm glad to know you too…" he said then stiffened as he heard steps close. He grimaced and ducked behind the bins as the Colonel burst into the yard with Dagur and Vorg, seeing the guards unconscious with an empty bottle of mead by them.

"Maybe my men should watch over your dragon since your own are…unreliable…" Dagur suggested lightly. He seemed to have regained his composure. The Colonel grabbed the door of the cage and checked: it was still locked, though the muzzle had been removed from the Night Fury and the dragon had clearly been fed and watered and seemed relaxed. However, as soon as it saw the Colonel, its pupils narrowed and it gave a fearsome growl.

"Oooh! I see someone hasn't made a friend!" Dagur taunted him.

"Your men clearly supplied them with mead," the Colonel growled, kicking the hapless soldiers. They just mumbled and snored louder. Casting around for someone to blame, the Colonel clapped his eyes on the corporal and the sergeant. "You two-you're guarding the dragon tonight!" he snapped. Both men looked as if they were about to protest but the Colonel glared at them so fiercely both shut up. From his vantage point, Ryder saw both snap to attention and salute as they first dragged their men away-Ryder reckoned without regret that both would be on punishment duty come morning-and then take station by the Night Fury's cage. He sneaked round behind Hookfang's cage, granting the young Monstrous Nightmare a pat, then watching as Dagur grabbed a small Terrible Terror from a cage at the back of the house and tied a message to its leg. He murmured a few words in its ear then threw it into the air. Squawking, it circled then flapped into the dark.

"Do you think he'll come?" Vorg asked his older brother. Dagur gave a nasty smile.

"He'll come," Dagur said and returned to the house, his brother in tow. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ryder checked the coast was clear, then headed silently back to his sleeping place…not seeing the blue eyes follow him from an upper window…

oOo

Gustav was finishing off chopping more wood for the fire in the hostel-a job he had volunteered to do after cooking the dinner for himself, Gobber and the twins. At twelve, he was still a better cook than any of them and he was scared to trust the twins to cook because he had no idea what they would put in the pot. Admittedly, he was bored out of his mind being confined to the hostel and yard but he was more scared of Alvin's men. They were mean and dangerous and he didn't fancy being used as a pawn in the game for his sister. He knew that their Dad hadn't been a gambler and wished he could use a gun as well as Ryder, who seemed to be very cool and impressive. Then he sighed. At least he had been until he had started working for the Berserkers.

The gate creaked but Gustav was reaching down to pick up the logs, so he didn't see the man approach, only felt the hand clap over his mouth and an arm pin him against a sturdy body.

"I've been looking for you," said Snotlout.


	9. Early One Morning

**Nine: Early one morning…**

It was because he was on edge and a light sleeper anyway that Ryder was up before dawn, though there was no opportunity to visit the captive Night Fury as it was being heavily guarded by a pair of very disgruntled officers. Quietly, the gunslinger sneaked out of the compound and walked across the plaza, hesitating…then approaching the hostel. Seeing the door closed, he slipped in through the gate to the yard, which was unbolted, and let himself into Red's stable, sitting cross-legged on the floor and staring blankly into the empty space. Unconsciously, his hand slid up to the scales on the cord around his neck.

"Miss yer, bud," he murmured. "I think I've found the others guys who did it…and I could've used you to confirm who they were. I was pretty out of it when they finished but I recalled his voice. And he gave me their names…" He fished the other chain from around his neck, a tiny cheap locket with a little black and white photograph of a very pretty woman with jet hair and bright eyes, her lips tilted in a soft smile that she only meant for him. "And I know it won't bring her back…it won't take away what they did…but it will stop them doing it again…" he said grimly, then rose to his feet. "G'bye, Red," he murmured and left, walking slowly to the kitchen and grabbing the coffee pot. Gobber seemed to have melted some tar in it, but he briskly cleaned it and brewed some coffee, then fried up some bacon and eggs, sitting down to eat at the table as Gobber stumbled down the stairs, wondering who was in his kitchen. His eyes popped in shock at the lean shape, bowed over the plate and staring thoughtfully at the coffee.

"Laddie?" Gobber exclaimed, stumbling over, sitting down heavily and grabbing the mug of coffee. He drained it with a happy sigh. "Gods, where did you find this? Valhalla?"

"Astonishingly, no. Your own kitchen is capable of producing edible food-provided you're banned from the place!" Ryder shot back, rising easily and grabbing a second mug and the pot and sloshing a mug for himself-and refilling Gobber's. As he turned back, the man was already filching his bacon and munching happily.

"If yer ever decide ter give up on being a stone-hearted killer, ye've got a place as my chef any day o' the week!" Gobber told him, starting on the egg. Ryder grabbed the plate he had made for the old blacksmith, slid it under his face and rescued the remains of his own breakfast.

"Wow-that's the warm fuzzy feeling I've been missing," he murmured.

"Aren't Dagur's men as complimentary as me about yer cookin', lad?" Gobber asked, egg dribbling down his big chin. Ryder sighed.

"If I cooked anything, Dagur'd just charge me for the privilege," he muttered bitterly, his tone so dark that Gobber inspected his face carefully.

"Yer knew he were a lunatic," Gobber said thoughtfully, munching through his bacon.

"Hey-lunatic I could handle," Ryder commented with a sigh, "but he's an evil manipulative bastard. I reckon he pulled the legs off one too many flies as a kid…and thinks he can do the same to people."

"But why're ye here, lad?" Gobber asked and for a moment, the younger man's shoulders slumped.

"Needed a few minutes to clear my head, Gobber," he murmured. Then he paused. "Did he suffer?" The blacksmith drained his coffee cup, eyes sweeping over the bowed shape.

"No, it was very peaceful, lad," he murmured. "Ye did everything ye could but he was too old, too worn out. Even Fireworm gel couldn't reignite his flame. It was his time…" Ryder suddenly sat back in the chair, his head dropping back and eyes closing. He was about to speak when he stiffened and shot to his feet, stalking to the window and pushing the recently washed lace curtains aside to peer at the very subdued army convoy trying to sneak out of the town as the sun was rising. He leaned forward, seeing some very hung over and worse-for-wear soldiers. Brow furrowing, Ryder ran his hand through his messy auburn hair.

"Now where are they going so quietly and early?" he murmured, seeing the cage with Toothless rolling past. His eyes saw the despondent slump of the dragon's body and felt a pang deep in his chest. Goober frowned.

"The soldiers are real antsy, lad," he commented, helping himself to another coffee. "I tried chatting to a couple who were getting their bayonets and knives sharpened at the forge and their sergeant almost shot me!"

"Hmm…they seemed mighty friendly last night…but then why would they sneak out this morning? What are they trying to hide?" Ryder murmured, his hands splayed on the window frame as he craned his neck. "Do you have a dragon?" Gobber spat out his coffee on the cleaned rug. Ryder rolled his eyes at the stains. "You really are one walking ball of mess, aren't you?" he complained.

"My hostel-I can mess it up as I pleased, Mr Tidy!" Gobber snarked back.

"Not if you expect me to clean it up again," Ryder grumbled.

"Nah-got little Gustav to help me now," Gobber murmured. "Wonder where he is?"

"Probably still in bed-he's a growing lad," Ryder commented calmly. "Erm-dragon? You know, big flaming reptile?" Gobber huffed.

"Got one o' me own, laddie…" he sulked.

"Where?"

"The forge, o'course!" Gobber growled. "Where else would ye keep a Hotburple?"

"Hmm…an asbestos-lined pit where it couldn't set fire to everything?" Ryder suggested calmly. "The house of someone you _really_ didn't like? C'mon-let's follow those soldiers and see what they're doing…" Gobber gaped.

"You talking to me?"

"No-the other four people in this room…of course I'm talking to you, old man! Now come on-even a Hotburple could catch up with them, since they can't fly on those dragons due to the cage…and they aren't heading in the direction of Meathead either…"

"Why would they be goin' tae Meathead anyway, laddie?" Gobber asked, grabbing his waistcoat.

"Because the Colonel said they were heading there…" Ryder told him, frowning. "Hmm…I believe in these parts, you say 'a man's life can depend on a mere scrap of information'. I overheard him talking to the lieutenant." Gobber grinned.

"Okay, laddie-I'm dying to see how you get yourself killed this time," he commented brashly and the tall, lanky gunslinger rolled his eyes.

"After you, old man!" he growled as they headed to the forge.

oOo

The letter was delivered to the door of the Berserker compound and the grinning guard delivered it straight to Astrid as she fed and fussed the pretty blue Nadder. It was obvious the soldiers had left in a hurry because two of them had abandoned their packs…including a pistol. Checking that no one was looking, she stuffed it under her skirts and tidied the packs away, then fed Stormfly and accepted the letter wordlessly. But she didn't open it until she left the yard…and then she froze as she read the words.

 _We have Gustav as our guest at the Outcast Compound. Join me, Princess, or I'll start sending pieces of your brother to you ~ Snotlout._

She crumpled the paper in her hand, her face pallid with worry. She wasn't at liberty to hand herself over to Snotlout, even if she wanted to, because Dagur was exulting in his possession of the woman. And that meant her brother would suffer-and maybe die-because of that. She knew that Snotlout wanted exactly what Dagur had-a pretty and pliable consort-but neither man cared for Astrid Hofferson or aroused any emotions in Astrid except contempt and hatred. Worse, Dagur wouldn't care what happened to her brother-and nor would his brothers, meaning she had only one person she could turn to. And she had something on him…so she turned and determinedly went looking for Ryder…

oOo

The Hotburple, Grump, was slow, lazy and very reluctant to shift his bulk from the forge where he was quietly napping. In fact, he had been still for so long, he actually had cobwebs on him when Gobber came in bellowing and finally kicking the dragon into life.

"That's it-you're up for adoption!" the blacksmith had grumbled as Ryder had efficiently and swiftly saddled the dragon and mounted up behind Gobber's bulk. Once in the air, the dragon had been reasonably happy to fly along at low level and follow the trail of the Nadders and the cage…and, as Ryder admitted privately to himself, there was little prospect they may accidentally overtake the convoy…until they glimpsed them stopping by a dry river bed about four miles out of town, down in the rusty canyons. They swiftly landed and both men scrambled along until they could peer over a rise to peek down onto the soldiers.

They had paused, opposite a band of men, dressed in the beige leathers and sheepskin and led by a tall and powerfully-built man with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail behind his head, his dark eyes intelligent and cold. Around him, his band were all dressed similarly, a dozen of them arrayed with their carts and kit lined up behind them but Ryder's eyes narrowed at the sight of the man, recognising him not from that horrific night…but another unforgettable day when a twelve year old boy had been sent to hide as the Trappers rolled in, their greedy eyes fixated on the family's little herd of Gronckles and breeding stock of Boneknappers. The tall shape, the clear and surprisingly clearly accented voice were horrifically familiar as he began to negotiate with the Colonel…

 _…_ _the report of the shot…_

 _…_ _the thieves riding away with their livelihood…_

 _…"_ _Dad!"…_

 _…_ _the man, sprawled in an expanding puddle of his blood, lips growing whiter and eyes dulling as he desperately made his confession to the boy…made his apologies to the boy he was going to leave orphaned and alone in the world…_

He blinked and leaned closer, his eyes cold as he focussed on the meeting. The tall Trapper gave a wide smile, his handsome face appearing very amiable.

"So you decided to accept our offer," the Trapper said clearly. The Colonel looked vaguely embarrassed but walked forward confidently.

"No one knows that we successfully captured a Night Fury, Mr Eretson," the soldier said calmly. "They're almost extinct, they're intelligent and fast and all but impossible to capture...and if a Trapper turns up with one, who is to say where it came from?" The trapper gave a broad smile, even white teeth gleaming in the sunshine.

"And you are all in agreement?" he asked. The men all nodded.

"And the price?" the Colonel asked without shame. The Trapper gave a broader smile.

"A hundred thousand dollars in gold, as we agreed," Eretson said calmly. Ryder ducked down, his face twisted in fury.

"Those men...that bastard Dagur..." he hissed in anger. Gobber stared at him in shock.

"Laddie?" the old blacksmith asked, leaning closer.

"Dagur has charged me five thousand for his men losing the damned dragon and all the while...the damned soldiers are working for him!" he hissed. There was a pause.

"How do you...?" Gobber murmured and Ryder pointed. The familiar device of Viggo and Ryder was visible on the carts.

"He's one of Dagur's Trappers," he grimaced. "Gobber...keep down..." he added and rolled back to see the Trapper beckon the Colonel forward.

"Let's check it together..." Eretson said and then stood aside.

The flap of the cart flipped up and a shape appeared, holding the handles of a mounted machine gun, the _chugga chugga chugga_ of the hail of bullets deafening. Ryder pressed himself into the rocky slope, a hand pushing Gobber back as the initial spray ripped through the front rank of soldiers and Nadders. Emerald eyes wide and heart galloping in his chest, he saw the soldiers fall, the Colonel dropping with blood pumping from his neck. Using the machine gun, Dagur was laughing manically as he continued to pour death onto the hapless soldiers. The second rank fumbled with their weapons as the bullets shredded their flesh and Ryder irreverently thought that having Nadders who could march and fly in time and hold their tails all at the same angle wasn't half as important as having a bullet-proof vest or a cocked gun handy...

One Nadder got off the ground, his wing pierced by the blizzard of bullets but behind the machine gun, Dagur grinned as Hoark cranked the mechanism and the fleeing dragon was mercilessly cut down. In its cage, the Night Fury was roaring in distress at the death of the dragons around it, but the Trappers merely stayed back and shot any soldier who seemed to have escaped the initial onslaught. Ryder felt his face tighten in anger as he saw Ove and Trond fall, blood spraying from their wounds as they dropped limply to the floor. And though he had seen more than a lifetime's worth of death, he still felt a pang of regret at the deaths of two men he had chatted so amiably to and tricked only a few hours earlier.

Eventually, the gun fell silent and the cries of dying Nadders and the roars of the distressed Night Fury were the only sound. The gritty red dust swirled around the bodies as Dagur leapt down from the cart and approached the cage.

"Now you're mine," he purred, his hands trailing possessively over the bars. The dragon's teeth snapped down and he snapped fiercely at the Berserker's hand...but Dagur merely laughed. "Oh, you're everything I had hoped for, dragon. Now, what shall we call you? Deathwing? Firestar? Nightwing?"

The dragon growled...but Dagur ignored the obvious anger as his own Skrill flapped down and settled aggressively behind him. Both Strike Class dragons' eyes narrowed and they growled, then roared at each other. With a sigh, Dagur turned to calm the Skrill.

"Aw, c'mon, Sparky!" he whined at his dragon. "You know this dragon us just another piece in my collection...and once I've learned all I can about him...he'll be slaughtered, skinned and stuffed for my museum!"

A shiver of rage ran through Ryder at this: all this death, all this misery...for Dagur to capture the rarest dragon on the planet and then kill it just to complete his obscene display of dragon taxidermy. He was breathing so hard that he wondered that Dagur couldn't hear...and then he saw it...one of the sergeants was moving, his shoulder wound staining his coat dark with blood. But he managed to scrabble onto an injured Nadder, its wing rent by machine gun fire and they threw themselves into the air, screeching. Dagur was up in a second, flinging himself onto the Skrill and racing after the escapees. Ryder and Gobber squirmed under a stand of spiny brush, peering through the thorns as they heard thunder rumble overhead and lightning coil around the Skrill with a crackle.

"GO!" Dagur shrieked and the dragon fired a blast of electricity that coiled brutally around the escapees, dropping both cruelly onto the rocks with a sickening thud. Crawling forward, Ryder watched as the Berserker landed and slid from his dragon, shooting the limp Nadder in the head before rearing over the dying soldier. Mad face twisted in a hideous leer, Dagur lifted the gun and fired. The report echoed and died away as the man lay still.

"Get my dragon back to Berk!" the Berserker ordered, leaping onto the Skrill and arrowing in back towards the distant town. "And we'll done, Eret, my friend."

"You heard the man!" Eret announced, a small smile on his handsome face. "Let's get this dragon where it belongs!" Ryder rolled onto his back, staring up at the cloudless sky and exhaled. He knew if anyone saw him, they were dead...but he also saw an opportunity to manipulate the situation and finally turn a profit.

"Gobber, my friend," he murmured, "not a word." The old blacksmith stared at him in concern, hearing Grump snoring by a pile of rocks he had been snacking on. Gobber sighed.

"Who'd believe me?" he said gruffly, staring as the Trappers shackled a pair of unhappy-looking Gronckles to the cage and began hauling it back to the Berserker Compound.

"Um...me? And I guess your friend, Stoick? Maybe Fishlegs? Dagur certainly. Probably Alvin and Snitface his son..."

"Snotlout is his adopted son...and Stoick's nephew and last surviving relative," the blacksmith muttered absently.

"My point is that quite a lot of people would believe that Dagur would trick then massacre a whole troop of soldiers," Ryder sighed, "but _you can't say anything!_ Even to your friend!"

"But Stoick deserves to know..." Gobber protested and Ryder rolled his eyes.

"Probably but should he? No-because he'll get himself killed and stuff up my plan to make some cash, thoroughly inconvenience Dagur and maybe get Astrid and the dragon away from that murderous lunatic!" Ryder snapped. "Your friend has no power, no real authority and no hope of besting the Berserkers and the Outcasts!"

"And ye do?" Gobber asked disbelievingly. Ryder grinned.

"I have one advantage," he said cockily. Gobber peered at the determined face, strangely familiar and lit by a lopsided smile, the emerald eyes sparkling with amusement.

"And that is?"

"I'm a very bad man so I know how these bastards think-or in Alvin's case, doesn't think-and I'm not bound by the law…" Gobber started at him in concern. "Don't worry about me, Gobber. I'm not planning on dying and I'm not forgoing my revenge. Dagur and his friends owe me more than you can ever know…and I aim on collecting. And…I made a promise which I intend to keep…" Then he stood up, dusted himself off and hauled Gobber to his feet. "C'mon, old man. I need to get back before Dagur realises I've been watching his misdeeds…"

"Be careful he doesnae suspect ye, laddie," Gobber grunted as Ryder propelled him back up onto Grump's back. The Hotburple lay there, snoring, as Gobber kicked him with a selection of whimpered curses until the dragon finally opened his eyes, realised he was being asked to do something and lumbered to his feet, almost throwing off the two riders.

"Does the dragon of yours actually do _anything_ you tell him?" Ryder asked, grabbing onto the blacksmith. Gobber elbowed him in the side and he exhaled with an 'oof!'

"Don't listen tae him, Grump! Yer the best dragon in mae forge!" he told his dragon, which gave a grumble and took off.

"Well, that's the worst endorsement I've heard all year!" Ryder grumbled as they weaved off through the scrub.


	10. Plans

**Ten: Plans.**

Somehow, Ryder managed to sneak in without Dagur noting his absence-probably because he was exulting in his victory and crowing over his brothers. Slipping over the wall and landing agilely in the small yard, he hunkered down and vanished to the head, emerging relieved and heading for breakfast (beans and dried yak) still yawning…

…as a small but very strong hand grabbed his wrist and he yelped as she dug her very hard fingers into the barely-scabbed cuts from the dragon's teeth. And then he spun round, pulling her back against his body and wrenching the hand behind her back, his other hand across her mouth as he dragged her into the shadows, behind the bins of fish for the dragons and vats of dragon blood and dragon dung. Astrid struggled angrily and bit his hand hard, drawing blood.

"Ow!" he grunted through his teeth. "Hey, Milady Astrid-you grabbed me, remember?"

"Get off me!" Astrid muttered through his hand. Staring up at him, her face was still angry and with a sigh, he pulled his hand away, inspecting the bite mark with a grimace.

"So what do you want?" Ryder asked shortly, feeling her pull against his grasp. He kept her still, still mistrusting her motives.

"I…I need your help," she admitted in a reluctant tone.

"Sounds like it," he replied bitingly, moving his hand warily. "You really gotta work on your approach, Milady. Grabbing someone and biting them really doesn't encourage them to help you!"

"I don't have much time!" she said impatiently.

"And I don't think Dagur would be happy to see me talking to you," he reminded her. "In fact, I'm pretty certain he'd kick my ass-if he didn't shoot it off entirely!" She craned her neck as she squirmed to meet his gaze.

"And he'll do worse if he learns you were talking to his precious dragon!" she told him bluntly. Instantly, his hand snapped up, hard under her throat and pulled her head right up, painfully forcing her head back.

"I could break your neck to prevent you talking," he told her softly, his voice suddenly very cold. She took a couple of panicked breaths, feeling him leaning very close to her. He topped her by half a head, his lean shape far stronger than he looked and she felt acutely vulnerable. And she was kicking herself for forgetting he was just as cruel and vicious as Dagur. _How could she have forgotten it? How could she have been so stupid?_

"Go ahead!" she said harshly, her voice thick with hatred. "It's all your kind every do-threaten and destroy. You killed my father. You'll condemn my brother to death and you'll kill me. Why should you be any different?" He quietly spun her to face him, the grip on her throat tight. His green eyes were cold as he inspected her pale face, reading hatred, despair and resignation in her clear blue gaze. His green gaze swept over the smooth, faintly-freckled skin and the soft lips, then pressed a hard kiss onto her mouth, feeling her stiffen and remain as stone under his determined touch. Finally, unsatisfied, he lifted his head.

"You know, I'm pretty sure I didn't have anything to do with your father's murder," he murmured softly, staring into her furious gaze. "What do you need my help with?" He opened his hand and released her. She spat in his face.

"Nothing!" she hissed but he grabbed her wrist none too gently and jerked her back to face him.

"Look, I may be a stone-hearted killer, Milady, but I can tell you're desperate," he said calmly. "And you really don't have anyone else do you? Astonishing, really-I'd have thought your winning personality would have 'em queuing round the block…" She pulled against his grasp and he tilted his head. "And I guess it's Gustav who's in trouble, hmm?" She wrenched her hand free.

"Snotlout has him!" she spat and shoved the letter into his face. He scanned the words thoughtfully and his brows dipped.

"So what do you want me to do?" he asked her softly. Her bright eyes were still angry and bitter.

"Rescue him!" she said, the tone a soft plea.

"And what's in it for me?" he murmured in her ear, leaning very close to her. And he saw it then, the weary resignation, the utter defeat flash through her eyes as her shoulders slumped slightly.

"What-whatever you want," she sighed softly, looking away from his piercing emerald gaze as his hand gently stroked her neck. A pang of shame ran through him, reading the offer and knowing that accepting it would be almost as bad as what was done to his wife: coerced, cornered and broken, Astrid had no other option. But he hadn't since Heather…and though he freely acknowledged he was a bad man, he wasn't _that_ evil.

"Astrid-an act not freely given is worthless," he breathed in her ear, removing his hand. "Can I just say you owe me a favour?" Her blue gaze flicked up in shock, expecting him to be as boorish as the rest. His lopsided smirk was suddenly less menacing. "I will try…but I'll need to wait until later. Storming in there in broad daylight will get us both killed." She nodded and pulled back away from him, her poise restored. She lifted her chin.

"Thank you," she said roughly, backing away. He tipped his hat.

"Hey, anything for a lady," he murmured as she smoothed her skirts and swung away, marching away from him and out across the yard, golden braid swinging as she moved. "Especially one with your warm and charming personality," he sighed, running his hand through his hair and readjusting his hat, then emerging as well…

…unaware of a pair of eyes watching him follow Astrid out…and making a note for future reference…

oOo

"A TRUCE?" Alvin read, almost choking on his porridge. Bente insisted that he eat a healthy breakfast, arguing it had served Scots for centuries. So he suffered the sloppy mush every morning, secretly longing for bacon, eggs and bread instead. The man who had delivered the letter from Dagur on a silver tray looked embarrassed.

"Um…yeah?" he suggested. Alvin grabbed his coffee and downed the lot then refilled the cup and downed another one. He peered at the words but they were unchanged.

"So why now? Why is Dagur asking for a truce? What doesn't he want us to know?" he murmured.

"Hmmph!" Bente said, bustling in and lifting the letter, her dark eyes flicking over the words. "You men-always seeing conspiracies. And where there aren't any, you make them up. Never happy unless you're in conflict. Maybe this is for the best-an accord where both our houses can work together for mutual profit!" Alvin peered at his wife: he didn't trust Dagur and his Berserkers at all but the chance to recoup and press his advantage…and maybe outflank the enemy…was enticing…

"Yes, dear," he growled. She flicked a gaze at him.

"And get that lazy son of yours up!" she snapped. "He's coming as well!"

oOo

The Night Fury was wheeled in a couple of hours before noon and Ryder carefully watched as Eret smirked and handed the dragon over to an exultant Dagur. Eyes narrowing, Ryder watched the big man and scanned his men, hanging around close to the Trappers and hearing a voice that made his skin crawl…a voice that echoed from that day…

 _"…_ _Lars Forsberg…he's still with the Grimborns…"_

His eyes narrowed as he saw a stout, balding shape, recalling the man's voice and narrow-set blue eyes, recalling him grabbing Heather… He blinked and turned away. He knew the hatred was bright in his green eyes and that could betray his intentions…and scupper his plans. He turned away and slunk away to see Hookfang…and then Kjetil grabbed him.

"Where're you goin'?" he growled. "You got work ter do!" Ryder frowned.

"What?" he asked.

"Cleaning out those Gronckle cages!" he smirked. "We've got visitors and Dagur wants the whole place spotless…"

"What-he's taking the visitors to see the floor of the Gronckle cage? Boy, that's what I call a tour!" he commented, his eyes narrowing.

"No-but you'll be seeing it if you don't stop smart-mouthing me, Red, and get those cages spotless!" Kjetil sneered. "Now git!" With a baleful stare, Ryder grabbed a bucket and shovel and set to cleaning the cages of luminous green dragon dung. It was smelly and mindless work but at least it afforded him an alibi and chance to run through his plan. But as he was dropping another load in the silo, he heard Dagur and Savage talking and shrank back into the space behind the silo.

"What is the meaning of this?" Savage asked his older brother. "I mean…I am sure you have a perfectly reasonable plan, brother…I just don't see why we have to invite those accursed Outlaws into our compound…" Dagur gave a little giggle and draped a condescending arm around his brother's shoulders.

"Is it possible, old fellow, that you will ever be able to figure things out for yourself?" he asked mockingly. Savage just gave a dumb look, wondering if his brother would shoot him. It had happened before…usually for Dagur's amusement. "Sometime, those soldiers will be reported missing…and they may well be tracked here. And what will they find when they look in Berk?" Savage frowned. "Nothing. The Berserkers and Outcasts will be quiet as church mice-nothing to see at all. So no one will connect those dead soldiers and us…and my Night Fury…"

"So this is a ruse?" Savage asked, his brow furrowed. Dagur rolled his eyes.

"Yes," he sighed, staring at his confused-looking brother. "Are you sure I'm not adopted?"

Ryder gave a small smile as he emerged once the two had moved away. He quietly finished his job and then slid out of the compound, walking calmly to the hostel and finding Gobber in the forge, still concerned about the boy. With a cocky smile, he leaned against the doorframe and watched as Gobber hammered a knife almost flat.

"Interesting technique, old man," Ryder commented and Gobber's head snapped up, his protective brass mask flipped up to eye the stranger.

"What're yer after now?" he growled.

"Hey-I didn't kill those men," Ryder reminded him. "And I have a plan to keep Dagur on edge…"

"Yer made me not tell mae best friend," Gobber grumbled accusingly. Ryder sighed.

"And that would be a great way to get him killed," he pointed out. "No offence, but he's got no back-up, no authority and no sense of danger…"

"He's a great man," Gobber said stubbornly. "He's just lost everything he held dear-his wife, his son, his brother and now his nephew…" Ryder paused then did a double-take.

"Snotlout? He's Stoick's nephew?" he asked in shock. "Gods, that family must have yak dung for brains if they produced that narcissistic, lazy, stupid…"

"Stoick's baby son was taken twenty years ago…presumed dead and his wife was killed outright," Gobber said in a low voice. "Dinnae be so hard, laddie. That man has suffered as well." Ryder jerked himself upright and shrugged. He gestured to the flattened knife. "Not sure if I'd trust my knife to you to sharpen, though!" Gobber rolled his eyes.

"So ye think yer can do better?" he snarked. Ryder grinned.

"Maybe some day I'll show you," he said cockily. "Now, can you have the twins ready with two empty coffins at sunset?" Gobber frowned, shocked.

"What are ye plannin', laddie?" he asked suspiciously. Ryder winked.

"I'm gonna get you the money I owe, annoy Dagur and keep the Outcasts and Berserkers at each others throats," he grinned. "Oh, and I'm rescuing Gustav as well…"

oOo

It was an hour after sunset when the cart stacked with two empty coffins rolled into the valley that was still strewn with dead soldiers. Ryder had driven but Gobber and the twins had insisted on coming with him and he was unsurprised to find the soldiers just left where they fell, though he heard gasps around him.

"Dude! This is like…awesome!" Tuffnut commented.

"Wow…so many men needing burying…!" Ruffnut added, her keen eye sweeping over the slumped shapes…but they fell silent as they saw the nature of the injuries. "Damn…they didn't stand a chance," she added quietly as Ryder leapt down, his eyes locked on the corpses.

"But we're only taking two of these men," he said. The twins stared at him in shock.

"Er…why?" Tuff asked. Ryder peered at the men, pausing to hunker down by two familiar shapes, Quietly, he pressed Trond's eyes closed and then did the same for Ove. He bowed his head for a second before standing again and walking up and down the corpses, until he picked out two with no major head wounds, then he lifted them in turn and dumped them in the open coffins.

'Because we only need two," he said simply. They all stared at him. "I'm not paying for twenty-some funerals and I need two reasonably healthy looking corpses to make my plan work." They stared at him as he scrambled up, grabbed the reigns and urged the two weary Gronckles forward.

"But..."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't bury them," he sighed heavily, heading towards the cemetery, "but I need these men now." The twins frowned and the ride was quiet until their cart rattled into the cemetery and Ryder leapt down, grabbing the first corpse. He cast around and found a suitable gravestone, then manhandled the dead man to apparently sit, slumped against it. Wordlessly, he rested the second man to also 'sit' against the other side of the gravestone.

"What're ye doing, laddie?" Gobber asked him suspiciously as Ryder wrestled the soldiers' guns from their holsters and placed them in their stiff, cold hands.

"Hmm...the dead have helped me out before," he admitted as the twins shared a confused glance in the gloomy cemetery. "They don't complain, they can be made to look alive even when they're not and lastly..." He paused with a grin.

"What?" Gobber asked.

"Well, lastly-if you shoot them, it doesn't matter 'cause they're already dead!" Ryder smirked. Gobber shook his head.

"I don't like it," he grumbled. "The dead belong with the dead. I mean, I'm alive and I want to stay with the living, when I'm dead, I'll want to remain with the dead and I'd be very unhappy if someone took me from the dead and forced me to remain with the living!"

"Dude-you won't know!" Tuff pointed out, eyeing the slumped corpses. In the moonlight, he was starting to see Ryder's point. They looked remarkably like two slumped and wounded men...

"Oh, I'd know!" Gobber added darkly. "Also-I don't like you putting them there! The owner of that headstone is the only person in the accursed town who ever died of pneumonia!" Ruff snorted with laughter as Ryder backed away...to bump into another, very well-tended headstone. He spun automatically...and read the words...

 **VALKA HADDOCK -BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER**

"Taken too soon and always missed."

Murdered protecting her son.

 **HICCUP HORRENDOUS HADDOCK III**

Aged 1 year.

Kidnapped, presumed lost.

The dates were twenty years earlier and the stone, though weathered, was beautifully clean, the little grave neat and fresh flowers lying precisely before the little monument. He realised it was the grave of the Sheriff's family and the reality of the tragedy hit him for a second, the careful attention to the beautiful plot speaking of a man who visited his family every day...

 _...and a pang of shame hit him then. He had gone back and buried Heather as soon as he had been able to ride, digging the grave with his own hands, fashioning a simple cross from the tools he could salvage from their burnt-out home and sitting for hours by the sad little grave which he had planted with the small patch of edelweiss that she had bought from a passing trader a month after they first moved in. Finally he had got up, had Red cremate the remains of the attacker he had killed to save Ryder and left, never to look back or return. She was all alone..._

 _...but he didn't need to visit her grave to remember her or what was done: he carried the pain and the memories with him every single day..._

"Okay...you guys can go back to the valley and bury those soldiers tomorrow," he sighed to Gobber's surprise, "but you still can't say anything to your Sheriff!"

"Hey, he thinks we're crazy so why would he care what we're up to anyway?" Ruff commented.

"And those guys don't deserve to be eaten by wild coyotes and Terrible Terrors," Tuff added. Ryder scrambled back onto the cart and grabbed the reins again.

"Just do me a favour, okay?" he asked as they looked at him expectantly. "When I get Gustav back, don't let him out if your sight until this is over!"

"And when we know this is over?" Gobber asked him warily. The stranger gave a grim smile.

"When I'm the last man standing!" he said.


	11. A Quiet Night in Berk

**A/N: This fiction has taken a lot of inspiration from 'Fistful of Dollars' but also some from "For a Few Dollars More" and even 'The Outlaw Josey Wales". This version of Hiccup is much darker than the usual version so any OOC actions are as a result of the losses Hiccup has experienced (hence the M rating). Obviously, I'm putting this note up because something happens in this chapter...**

 **Eleven: A quiet night in Berk…**

At the stroke of eight, the Outcasts walked out of their compound and headed up the plaza towards the Berserker house. Alvin was resplendent in a fine black coat over a heavily embroidered silk waistcoat that strained around his very ample and muscular shape. Bente had made him trim the edges of his beard and he was looking horribly self-conscious. His wife was elegant in a deep burgundy silk gown and black shawl while Snotlout walked along at their side, all in black.

"I don't see why I have to go as well?" he moaned. Alvin rolled his eyes at the petulant tone and sighed.

"We need all the eyes we can get, boy!" he growled. "I don't trust them Berserkers! Don't eat and drink nothin' and be on yer guard!"

"Alvin! That's hardly civil behaviour!" Bente scolded him. "You should accept their hospitality in the spirit it is offered!"

"Thought that were what I was doin'!" Alvin grumbled. "Dagur don't want peace, 'e wants victory. And the only reason fer 'I'm ter be invitin' us round is if 'e's trying ter lull us inter a false sense of security!"

"All the more reason I should stay behind..." Snotlout suggested but Bente was having none of it.

"You will BOTH behave ...Alvin, I expect a civil tongue in your head and Snotlout! I expect you not to make any inappropriate gestures towards that poor Hofferson girl..."

"But she's my Princess and she will be mine!" Snotlout began. "After all, I have got..."

"...every right to offer her the chance to be an Outcast, not a Berserker," Alvin cut in quickly, knowing what his wife's response would be to kidnapping Gustav. He tossed the younger man a warning glare.

"Plenty of time!" Bente commented as they walked briskly across the plaza, slipping her arm through her husband's. "Best foot forward!" But as Alvin looked up at the thick adobe walls of the compound, he couldn't help thinking that they were walking like flies into a spider's web...

oOo

Ryder sneaked into the Berserker compound and hung around the dragons because he knew what was coming next...and as expected, Vorg sought him out just before the Outcast party was due to arrive and told him to make himself scarce.

"My brother doesn't want you ant...antag...anti...upsetting the guests," he said shortly. Ryder gave a small smirk.

"You mean the fact I killed four of them for upsetting my dragon when I arrived?" he asked pointedly.

"Um, that..." Vorg muttered. "Look-scat! But don't go far because your ass is still Dagur's!"

"Hmm...the way you put that makes me concerned for the fate of my ass," Ryder riposted. Vorg frowned.

"Don't try to be smart!" he growled.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Ryder smiled. "When do you want me back?"

"After they've gone!" Vorg growled. The lean gunslinger rose and rammed his hat on his head.

"If you want me, I'll be in the saloon," he said and sped from the compound before Alvin arrived...though he watched them walk in a group across the plaza and caught their conversation. Smiling, he walked into the saloon...and found, for once, there were people there. Gobber was at a table with Stoick while Fishlegs and the twins were trying to play poker. Hesitating for a moment, he walked up to the bar, helped himself to a glass of bad mead and left the price on the sticky counter. With a sigh, he sat alone at a corner table and sipped the foul liquid, staring aimlessly across the room.

Fishlegs looked up from his dismal hand and saw him staring in the middle distance and felt a pang of recognition. There was something familiar about the young gunslinger-especially in his unguarded moments, which were few and far between. He was much younger than his sardonic smile or characteristic sarcasm made him seem and he was certainly striking with his bright forest green eyes and messy auburn mop, the sharp jaw softened by scruffy stubble. There was something about the face that made Fishlegs want to get up and scour through the town archives...because he was sure he had seen him before...

"C'mon, dude! Join in!" Tuff called to the stranger and blinking in shock, he looked up.

"Um, you sure?" he asked. "I may be a terrible player..."

"No sweat, dude! My sister can't bluff to save her life!" Tuff laughed.

"No, only to save yours," she sighed and the twins fist-bumped happily. Fishlegs nodded and beckoned him over.

"You're welcome," he invited the lanky stranger, ignoring the scowls the Sheriff was casting at them and after a hesitation, Ryder did get up and walk over, standing a little warily for a second before taking the proffered seat and accepting the pack to cut and deal.

"Well, if you don't mind losing your money," he smirked and swiftly shuffled the cards. He had about half an hour to kill before it would be safe to head over to the Outcast compound and begin his night's work...

oOo

When he left the game, forty minutes later and thirty-six dollars richer, he grinned at the others and calmly walked out into the yard. He had maintained a calm and amiable chatter, not elaborating on anything that could give a clue about his past. Being in the cemetery had unsettled him and he knew tonight, he would get the dream. And he would do anything to defer that.

It was frosty and he slid to the side door, letting himself out into the moonlit plaza and quartering the perimeter of the compound before picking his way through the gate and letting himself into the Outcast compound. Every sense on edge, he ducked back against the wall, to see two men patrolling the perimeter. They were complaining none too quietly about the fact they had missed out on a free meal and that the brat was moaning again. Ryder's ears pricked and he slid quietly through the shadows, his lean shape tense and footsteps light. And then he pressed himself into the doorway, not daring to breathe as another heavy shape lumbered by.

"Jonas, Rolf! Shut your yaps!" a harsh voice shouted.

"Shut yer own, Svein!" one of the men shouted back but Ryder had frozen, emerald eyes wide and staring, matching the outline to the voice, the memories sleeting through his red-hazed mind…

 _…_ _my turn, I think…_

 _…_ _please…no…no more…_

 _…_ _I-leave her alone…_

 _…_ _didn't no one tell yer ter shut up, boy?…_

 _…_ _another blow, another kick, pain erupting through his chest and side, breathing almost impossible…_

 _…_ _now where were we?…_

His hand was tight around the grip of his pistol but he could feel it shaking. He recalled the man now, the sights and sounds and fractured sensations of his horrific nightmares, of his _memories,_ washing over him again and he had to consciously force himself to recall he was there to save a life, not end one…but his emerald gaze swung round to follow the man and he heard Heather again, begging piteously. He closed his eyes and fought for a moment more before he gave in, sinking back against the stone and observing Svein begin to patrol the perimeter. With a small roll of the shoulders, Ryder began to follow him.

The Outcast compound was thick-walled, extending back from the plaza about as far as the Berserker one. But where the Berserkers had cages and livestock, there were a couple of large stables that were packed to the rafters with crates of guns and ammunition. Ryder peeked in and noted three gatling guns stacked precisely and he shuddered: he could still see Dagur's crazed face as he sprayed death on the greedy but undeserving soldiers. A whole wall was stacked with rifles and gun-racks displayed an excellent selection of the newest devices for killing-including larger weapons designed specifically for dragons. With a shudder, he slid back into the yard.

Calmly, he hunkered down on his heels behind the water-butt outside the stable where the family's Whispering Deaths were stabled. He could hear the dragons' shushing 'whisper' as their hundreds of teeth rustled. The dragons were restless and very aggressive when the stranger had put his head round the door. But Ryder was puzzled: the dragons were poor in the bright sunlight of the badlands but dug well: not a great choice for riding or hauling weapons over long distances but great for mining. He frowned. What else was Alvin up to?

Blinking and forcing himself to pay attention, he leaned back to watch the Outcasts patrolling. Lacking a pocket watch or timepiece, he began to count as the men began their circuit.

"One-two-three…" he murmured, listening hard. The night was silent outside, only the cries of a few wild Night Terrors audible in the moonlit gloom. He glanced up at the house and his quick emerald gaze picked out a single room with a light on: that had to be where Gustav was being kept. He made a mental note of the position for when he went in to rescue the boy.

"Fifteen-sixteen-seventeen…"

Svein was the last in line of the men patrolling and Ryder swiftly moved his position to ensure he was in the right place when he made his move.

"Twenty-eight…twenty-nine…thirty…" Thirty-one seconds for the circuit. Not much time but enough for what he had planned. He watched them vanish round the corner and calmed his breathing, clearing his mind of everything except Heather's face, begging and pleading as she was abused, her plaintive eyes tearing his heart as he lay, brutalised and helpless. _Useless._

But no more.

The patrol went by again, the other two vanishing before Svein lumbered by Ryder. And then he struck, rearing up behind the man and cracking the butt of his gun over the man's skull. He strained to catch the man as the bulk toppled and the lean shape stooped as he hauled the shape back into the stables. The man was already coming to as Ryder backed away, pointing the gun at the man. Bleary eyes opened as the jowly face lifted-to see the lean shape staring at him along the barrel of a revolver.

"This must be a blast from the past," Ryder said. "Back with the dragons-like in your Trapping days…" Svein blinked and glared at the stranger.

"You'll die for this," he scoffed.

"You tried before. Look how well that went," Ryder said coldly. "Five years ago. A young couple on their farm southwest of here? You and our gang decided rather than trapping dragons, you'd rustle ours-and then you decided you wanted my wife as well…" Svein began to chuckle.

"Yeah…I remember…" he growled. "Pretty little thing. She was a _lot_ of fun." Ryder's knuckles whitened on the gun as the man looked up at him and gave a nasty sneer. "You were that scrawny kid? The one who tried to protect her?"

"She…was…my… _wife…_ " Ryder ground out through his teeth, aiming. The man gave a sneer.

"I remember you," he sneered. "You were pathetic. You were beaten and you kept whining and pleading for the girl. Gods, you even offered yourself up instead of her…what kind of man are you?"

"A widower," Ryder growled and shot him. The man cried out in shock and horrible pain, scrabbling at his midriff where blood was oozing from a hole in his gut. He stared in shock at his red hands, trembling.

"You…shot me…" he gasped.

"You raped and shot my wife," Ryder said grimly. "It's only fair…and you took our dragons as well…" The man was suddenly afraid as he saw the implacable expression, his hand scrabbling for his gun. But Ryder was quicker, kicking him in the gut and then swooping round, tossing the gun aside and grabbing the wounded man by the collar to haul him to the cage of the nearest-and most aggressive-Whispering Death. The man glanced up, his face ashen and suddenly afraid.

"Please…no…" he whimpered. "You-you can't…"

"I can," Ryder growled, unbolting the door. He moved the the next two cages and unbolted them as well. "But I'm a sporting man. I'll give you a chance…" He kicked the man's gun right across the stable and pulled the doors open. "See if you can get your gun before these boys fancy a snack…"

"NO! Please…" Svein begged. "Have mercy…"

"I think that's what we said," Ryder said coldly and backed to the stable door as the pen doors opened. "Why should I listen any more than you?"

The hiss and rustle of the advancing Whispering Deaths grew louder and Svein glanced around in panic, trying to drag his body towards the gun. Ryder leaned against the door…seeing him not even get halfway before the first one attacked…

He slammed and locked the door behind him as the muffled scream was abruptly cut off. He was shaking, breathing hard and a cold sweat was soaking his face. He closed his eyes for a long moment, trying not to listen to the sounds…and then he forced himself to head back to the door of the house. He stealthily slid through and gently closed it behind him, before snapping his head round and stealthily walking through the elegant hall and quietly ascended the steps, then pressed back against the imported deep red wallpaper as the floor creaked and a man prowled up and down the upper landing. Watching the man for a few moments, Ryder silently walked after the man as he prowled sloppily towards the far end, slamming his fist on a door.

"You still in there, brat?" he shouted.

"No!" Gustav shouted back.

"Yer gonna regret that, yer mouthy little bastard!" the man shouted. "When Snotlout gets back, 'e'll decide what bit of yer 'e wants ter cut off first to get yer sister her come ter 'im!"

"Um…that won't work 'coz she's a prisoner of Dagur so she can't come no matter what you do!" Gustav called back worriedly. "So…can I go?"

"Yer ain't goin anywhere!" the Outcast called nastily. "And I'm goin' ter enjoy seein' what Snot cuts off yer!"

"I won't!" Gustav called from the room.

"Me neither," Ryder said from behind the Outcast, his hand sliding the man's knife from its sheath and other closing around his throat. The man struggled but the knife flashed down and the hand over his mouth stifled the grunt as it punched into his chest. There was a short moment where he writhed…and then he was limp. Ryder dropped him and stepped over, turning the key and unlocking the door. He pushed it open and stood in the doorway. "Gustav?" he called.

A chamber pot flew at his head and he batted it away, then ducked under the imported porcelain jug that smashed loudly on the floor.

"GUSTAV!" Ryder snapped sharply. "Quit chucking washroom china at me, boy! Your sister sent me to rescue you!"

A head popped up from behind the iron frame of a bed and Gustav was suddenly grinning. "Oh wow! Seriously? My sis? Is she okay?" The wistfulness and worry in the voice reminded the man that Gustav was an orphaned boy whose sister was being held hostage by Dagur, who probably hadn't talked to her for weeks or months. He fashioned a smile and beckoned the boy closer. Gustav lowered the bowl he had in his hand and Ryder nodded to him.

"She's fine," he said gently. "She's really worried about you, bud. Now, c'mon-let's get outta here…" He paused, then vanished from the room and reappeared, dragging the dead guard behind him. He wiped his hands on his pants then beckoned to the boy. "Quietly! Here's hoping the other guards are deaf-but don't throw any more pottery!"

But they had hardly got to the top of the stairs when they heard voices below…a woman…Snotlout…and Alvin…

oOo

Ryder grabbed the boy and hauled him back, casting around. It would be madness to go back into Gustav's room-so he ducked into the nearest door, finding himself in a boudoir. Hauling the boy back, he glanced around in panic. There were cushions _everywhere_ , a massive outbreak of lace and frills on every available surface along with a general air of pinkness: it didn't take a genius to realise that this wasn't Alvin's room but his wife's. Breathing hard, Ryder paused as steps approached and he frantically motioned Gustav to hide under the bed. The boy looked alarmed but he trusted the stranger and slid out of view as Ryder threw his lean shape behind the door. There was a creak outside and it opened, admitting a small, neat shape. Briskly, Bente turned up the oil lamp and folded her shawl, then laid it aside. She had pulled a tortoiseshell comb from her hair and had just laid it on her dressing table, by the silver-backed brush, comb and mirror when a hand reached our and captured her wrist. She stiffened…but Ryder had already clapped a hand over her mouth and spun her to press backwards against his taut shape. Very gently, he leaned closer and breathed quietly into her ear.

"I mean you no harm," he murmured, "But I would rather you didn't cry out. You see, Mrs Alvin, I know why Dagur the Deranged wants to be friends all of a sudden. Would you be interested in knowing?"

Her dark eyes flicked up to glimpse the outline of his features, his forest green eyes very intense with concentration. She gave a small nod.

"You see, there once was a convoy of soldiers who were transporting a very rare Night Fury to Army Command back in Meathead…" he began. "But they made the mistake of stopping in Berk…"

oOo

"ALVIN!" Bente called. "Come up here now! It's urgent!"

Alvin, who had shed his coat and waistcoat, snatched a look at Snotlout, who was helping himself to a mutton sandwich. Both men dropped everything and raced up the stairs, into Bente's bed chamber…to find Alvin's pistol snatched from his holster as he raced in followed by Ryder covering both the Outcast leader and his adopted son with his own pistol.

"Uh-huh," Ryder said coldly. "I mean you no harm but you can never tell how a man will react when he finds another man in his wife's bed-chamber!"

"Give him a thousand dollars, Alvin," Bente said firmly. Alvin almost choked and stared, bug-eyed-at the woman. His wife's dark gaze bored into his eyes. "Give him a thousand dollars," she repeated.

"Why?" Snotlout asked, regaining the power of speech quicker. His adopted mother loosed her hair from the tight knot and allowed the twin plaits to uncoil down her back. She pursed her thin lips and he subsided.

"Because he has important information…" she said and nodded. Swiftly, Ryder repeated his tale and the men frowned in surprise.

"So two soldiers escaped?" Alvin asked the stranger and he nodded quietly.

"Hiding out up in the cemetery," he confirmed. "Both are hurt but alive and can bear witness to Dagur's treason." Snotlout glared at him.

"So why're you telling us?" he asked directly. "You're one of his men!"

"Not of choice," the gunslinger said, his aim steady and never taking his emerald gaze off the two men. "I needed Fireworm Gel for my dragon and Dagur was the only source. The price was joining his gang…to work off my debt. This money will clear that…"

"Your dragon?" Bente asked, busily unbraiding one of her plaits: she had caught the edge of his voice. He gave the slightest grimace.

"If dragons are eligible for Valhalla, he'll be there waiting for me," he said evenly. "So you can see my desire to get free of him…"

"So why should we bother?" Snotlout sneered. Alvin glared at him.

"Because if you hadn't wondered how Dagur came by the Night Fury now caged in his compound, you're stupider than even I reckoned, Snotface," Ryder told him cheerfully. "Those soldiers' testimonies will give enough leverage for you, the Sheriff and the townsfolk to all work to get rid of Dagur. Maybe even the State Marshals will be needed but it's enough ammunition to finally end the Berserkers…and leave this town finally with one boss…"

Bente's eyes flicked up and locked with her husband's: both had visions of Mayor-and Sheriff-Alvin. The Outcast leader nodded and moved to stand by his wife. "Okay, I agree," he said gruffly. "Snotlout-fetch a thousand dollars!" The stocky young man gaped and his face fell into a disagreeable scowl.

"But we NEVER pay anyone that much!" he protested.

"We do when the intelligence is worth it!" Alvin growled. "NOW, boy! I ain't got all night!" Ryder remained still as he left, then carefully cracked open Alvin's revolver and poured the bullets out of the cylinder and onto the floor before tossing it onto the bed.

"You can come out now," he murmured and Gustav crawled out, careful to keep out of reach of Alvin. The Outcast leader gaped and his brows folded into a fearsome scowl.

"What's that boy doing with yer?" he demanded.

"Him? Oh, Gustav is my assistant," Ryder explained easily before locking his eyes implacably with Alvin. "And I promised his sister that I would protect him." Placing at his wife, Alvin paused after hearing the stark warning in the cold voice and then gave a small nod.

"That's very generous of you, Mister…?" Bente commented.

"Ryder, Ma'am," he said, tipping his hat slightly. "And I always keep my promises." She nodded briskly, her dark eyes shrewd.

"That is an admirable trait, sir," she commented as the sound of approaching feet signally Snotlout's return. The younger man scowled furiously as he suddenly realised the boy was free and standing by the gunslinger.

"What the Hel is he doing here?" he spat.

"Mind your tongue!" Bente snapped. "He is his assistant."

"Who I have promised to protect," Ryder repeated, this time turning his baleful emerald glare on Snotlout. To rub it in, he extended his hand and waited until Alvin's heir very reluctantly placed the folded notes in his hand. Professionally, he counted the notes, then tucked them in his pocket. He paused then turned back to Bente. "I would feel more reassured if you would guarantee our safe passage from your house, Mrs Alvin? No offence, but i don't think your husband, son and men like me." Flicking her gaze up to inspect her husband's face, she gave a small smile.

"i believe you may be right, Mister Ryder," she commented, her brisk tone thoughtful. "I grant you and the boy safe passage from our house and grounds-right, Alvin?"

"Yes, dear," the Outcast leader grumbled.

"Snotlout?"

"Yes, Mother," came the reluctant reply.

"Thank you…but may I ask you why?" Bente asked him as he turned to the door, a hand carefully on Gustav's shoulder to steer him safely away. He paused then looked back at her, his emerald gaze cold.

"Because Dagur is an evil man and one day soon, he'll kill everyone who opposes him…unless he's killed first." And with that chilling statement, they left.

oOo

"Do we have a deal?" Ryder asked softly, standing unashamedly on the neat rug of their private office. Savage, Vorg and Dagur glared at him across the dark wooden desk and the Berserker leader clenched his fists.

"I don't have to buy any information from you!" Dagur shouted. "Your ass is mine!"

"What is it about my ass that you people are obsessed with?" Ryder asked them shortly. "This was on my own time and is nothing to do with anything here…and, quite frankly, since you have a habit of randomly adding to my debt, I don't trust you to subtract any fee from the amount. So hand over folding money or keep wondering!" Dagur lunged forward but Ryder back-pedalled and the other brothers hauled him back, struggling to restrain him.

"How much?" Savage asked, fighting to hold Dagur back.

"A thousand," Ryder said without shame.

"WHAT? We NEVER pay our men that much…" Dagur spluttered. Savage nodded to Vorg.

"Fetch it!" he snapped. "I want to hear this!" Dagur wrestled free but watched as his brother handed the money over to Ryder. The lean gunslinger carefully counted it before tucking it into the pocket inside his sheepskin vest and then he smiled.

"I overheard in the saloon that the soldiers who stopped here were ambushed not far from here," he said. Dagur stiffened…then went puce with rage.

"Savage! Get that fuckin' money back off this scrawny lying…" he snapped and Ryder backed up a pace.

"Two of them survived," he continued calmly, staring hard at Savage. "They are hiding out in the cemetery…" Savage and Vorg stared at Dagur and the brother shook his head.

"They were all dead!" he spat. "I'm sure…"

"Well, there are two soldiers in the cemetery and the Outcasts are on their way there to intercept them and talk to them about what happened…" Ryder said truthfully. "They could be two soldiers from some other troop of soldiers that passed this way recently but can't rightly recall any other such troops, to be honest…"

"THAT DAMNED ALVIN!" Dagur shouted. "We can't let him get his hands on those men…if they exist…"

"Oh, they're there," Ryder said confidently. "They were seen…" Savage frowned.

"So why're you telling us this?" he demanded. Ryder gave a small shrug, keeping calm but never letting his left hand stray far from the grip of his pistol.

"I believe there is a saying round here 'that a man's life can depend on a mere scrap of information.' Well, this is that scrap, I think…" Savage nodded but Dagur was already pacing to the door.

"Get the men! We need to head to that cemetery NOW!" he shouted. Ryder looked up.

"Hmmm…you want me to come?" he murmured but Dagur glared at him.

"I don't trust you!" he snarled. "You stay here! Savage, Vorg-let's get going! And call those Trappers-we need their numbers!" He paused. "What're you waiting for?" he sneered at Ryder. "Get outta my sight!" Silently, the stranger tipped his hat and walked from the room, meeting Astrid in the corridor. Without breaking his stride, he winked at her and tipped a single, meaningful nod, then carried on his way. She paused and took a deep, shuddering breath of relief, her expression lightening a little. Whatever the price ended being, it would be worth it for the safety of her brother. And then she walked on as the brothers emerged, yelling for their men.

They were riding out at full speed as Ryder, unnoticed, settled by the Night Fury cage, stroking the prisoner before calmly handing over a couple of large fish to the purring dragon.

"Howya doing, bud?" he murmured. "Missed ya too." The dragon gave a little croon. He smiled. "Yeah, I think somebody's going to have a cold and irritating night…"


	12. Night Manoeuvres

**Twelve: Night Manoeuvres.**

The Outcasts approached the cemetery in the blue moonlight, the stillness very eerie. A desert owl hooted and a couple of bats flittered overhead then vanished. Alvin motioned his men to dismount and quietly walked into the dusty cemetery, peering in the gloom.

"It's very quiet," he growled.

"I don't like this," Snotlout grumbled. "That man works for the Berserkers. He killed four of ours when he arrived. This could be a trap!"

"That ain't news, boy!" Alvin growled. "That's why we've brought the men and are goin' in nice and slow. Because if there is the sniff of a chance ter get rid of Dagur, we gotta take it!" He drew his gun and slowly walked past the myriad of gravestones. All were neatly carved but the newer ones were much simpler, naming the men who fell, date and presumed age-because the ruffians and border scum both gangs hired were men who gave little away about themselves-sometimes not even a correct name-and there were no next of kin to contact.

At the furthest reaches of the cemetery, Alvin's men picked out the two shapes slumped against the headstone. Instantly, the Outcasts hunkered down and peered suspiciously at the two men.

"I don't like it…it's too quiet…" Snotlout murmured. "They hardly look alive…" The two shapes were picked out by moonlight, the dull white moonlight edging their drawn revolvers.

"The lad said they were injured," Alvin murmured. "They don't look too good…" He lifted his head. "Jonas-go check on them men!"

The rough looking young man began to sneak forward, gun raised and dark eyes wary. The rustle of a snake had him jumping and the skritter of a some bug or mouse had him jerking his pistol round to cover the sound…but there was nothing.

"Quit messin' around, boy, and git in there!" Alvin roared.

"Not going for stealth, Al?" Snotlout asked. Alvin growled at him.

"Cover him!" he shouted as he heard a screech overhead…

…and then the first bullets zinged around them…

oOo

He barely registered the soft footsteps until he found a bowl of steaming mutton soup placed in front of his legs as he rested against the Night Fury's cage. Ryder's green eyes snapped open and he glanced up-to see Astrid pouring a mug of mead-good quality by the smell of it and the expensive label on the bottle. Raising his head warily, he met her businesslike expression and she smiled at him briefly, concentrating on making sure she didn't waste the quality liquor.

"You're too skinny," she murmured as explanation as he lifted the soup and began to eat. The Night Fury gave a laughing noise, his mouth open in a toothless grin and Ryder cast the dragon a jaundiced look.

"Ha, ha! You can't resist all this…" he commented after his first mouthful, shocked at how tasty the soup was. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to have decent food. Carefully, Astrid perched on a low wall, brushing her skirts smooth and not meeting his eye as he inspected her. "Hmm…this still doesn't count as your favour," he mumbled through a full mouth. She smiled, her cheeks blushing slightly.

"I know…but thank you," she admitted in a gentler voice than he had heard her use previously. "You…did what you said. And I can't remember the last time when anyone did that for me." That hit him hard, a dual feeling of anger that she had been so abused and responsibility that he seemed to have won her trust. That he had been deemed by her to be _worthy_ of her trust. He took another mouthful of soup, not really sure what to say.

"He's a good kid," he managed at last. "Brave, mouthy, scruffy…definitely reminds me of me…" She looked at him closely.

"What happened to you?" she asked softly and he stiffened, putting the empty bowl down with a thud. He shook his head, his face closing.

"Really not your business, Milady Astrid," he said coldly and she stiffened. The smile left her face.

"I'll take that bowl," she said, leaning forward and grabbing it-but he swiftly captured her wrist and forced her to look into his face, consciously forcing himself to look less grim.

"Sorry-but that's a really sore subject," he offered by way of explanation. He sighed and reluctantly released her smooth wrist. "I meant no offence…I-I just don't wanna talk about it…" She stared at him and saw through his facade the clue to his pain and realised she would need to be patient in asking him about himself. As he moved, she saw something and unconsciously, she reached for it. He stiffened as she gently lifted the simple leather cord with three dragon scales threaded through, her azure gaze inspecting them carefully.

"From your dragon?" she guessed. He sighed.

"And your aim is perfect," he groaned. "Another sore spot."

"You're a curious man…Hiccup…" she murmured. "You come in like some heartless bastard but then you sell yourself to Dagur to try to save a dying old dragon."

"Don't knock it-it works for me," he murmured wearily.

"So why are you still here?" she asked him gently. He ran his fingers through his shaggy auburn hair, his green gaze amused.

"Worried I may leave you?" he asked her cockily. "I promised I would get you away, Milady Astrid-and I will. If nothing else, it will piss Dagur off immensely! And this guy needs rescuing as well…" He paused, his hand resting against the Night Fury's muzzle and his voice darkened. "And I got a couple of debts that need settling. So I need to be here for that…" She stood, the bowl in her hands and self-consciously flicked the bangs from over her left eye.

"If you need anything…you can always ask," she promised him then lunged forward, swiftly pressing a quick kiss on the lips. "Um…and that's for rescuing my brother…um…yeah…" And then she turned and almost ran back into the house. Frozen and staring after her, his mind in utter turmoil, he pressed a couple of fingers to his lips, which felt on fire. He honestly had no clue what to feel. Almost all of him was curling with shame at betraying Heather, at allowing himself to feel anything for Astrid when he should still be mourning the girl he loved and married and lost…but a small part of him actually felt alive, felt some warmth for the first time in five frozen years, locked in his deep freeze of pain, hatred and desire for revenge. He stared after her, breathing hard and then heard an amused warble from the Night Fury. Blinking to try to clear his head, he turned back to the dragon.

"Yeah…she must like 'em skinny and sarcastic!" he sighed as he leaned back against the bars. "Whoo. Looks like my lucky day!" Then he grabbed his hat, tipped it over his face and made himself comfortable. "Wake me when Dagur gets back…or I may be in the next cage to you!"

oOo

Bullets were flying around the cemetery and the twins had to duck down to make sure they didn't get hit. But both had quick reflexes and an instinct for the safest place so the were hidden behind an enormous gravestone laden with angels, cherubs and a giant celtic cross to watch the action.

"Dagur got here pretty quick, didn't he?" Tuff murmured.

"Yeah…strange that," Ruff muttered. "And they're really going at it…"

"My money's on Dagur…"

"Mine too!" Ruff told her brother. He scowled.

"Hey-you have to take the other one!" he told her.

"But we both know Dagur'll win," she protested. Tuff opened his mouth and then shut it again.

"Then let's just watch the carnage and see how good business is going to be tomorrow!" he suggested as they high-fived and settled back to watch the show.

The Berserkers had come in all guns blazing and the Outcasts had turned their attention to their enemies so a full-blown firefight had broken out. Bullets were zinging round the cemetery, ricocheting off gravestones and occasionally hitting members of the other party. Alvin hunkered down and fired furiously at the brothers while Snotlout edged round the cemetery to try to get to the soldiers. Dagur paused and his quick eyes saw the two slumped shapes.

"Cover me," he muttered, grabbing a rifle and ducking down, then hurdling over rocks and gravestones to get within sight of the soldiers. Alvin and Snotlout both shot at him as they tried to stop him getting to the men. Dagur dived down, bullets whizzing around him as the Outcasts tried to pick him off. But he aimed and fired, one shot slamming one soldier down and the second shot sending the other tumbling onto his face.

"You can have them, Alvin!" he called. "Because dead men don't tell tales!" Then he glanced back to Bucket. The man was blankly but efficiently firing at the enemy. Suddenly, there was cursing and the struggling shape of Snotlout was brought forward.

"Get off me!" he protested.

"We got your son, Al!" Dagur shouted. "We got us a hostage! Now you'll have to leave town!" There was a rough chuckle from the other side of the cemetery.

"I'd check how many brothers I had before I started making stupid comments!" Alvin shouted and Dagur glared around, seeing only Savage with his men. There was definitely a Vorg-shaped hole in the scenery and he knew who was in the custody of the Outcasts.

"That's it-I'm definitely adopted," he concluded.

oOo

Despite his best efforts, Ryder couldn't sleep-not with the memory of Astrid kissing him blazing across his memory. He was in utter turmoil because he shouldn't feel anything for her: she was a victim in this tragedy and really none of his business…unless he made her his business. And he had his vengeance-the image of that Whispering Death pouncing on Svein kept rerunning in his memory-and the Night Fury to deal with…but he tipped his head back and sighed. He kept coming back to Astrid...for there had been something there, a slight lowering of her defences that had made him feel very slightly like the man he had been…before that horrible day.

He got to his feet. The place was quiet and everyone was still out with the brothers to stop the soldiers talking to the Outcasts. Even Eret and his little gang of Trappers-who had remained to keep an eye on the Night Fury and the other dragons they had delivered-had gone on the mission to silence the soldiers. Not that they had been in any state to chat about much when he had left them, but you never knew…and then he smiled. It was time to do some damage. He leaned forward, all senses straining, then slowly edged into the house, making his way to the brothers' study.

The brothers had a safe but the key was in the door and it was unlocked anyway. Ryder shook his head as he investigated and found bags of gold, neatly lined up. And though he knew Dagur's brothers were both astonishingly stupid, he also guessed they had some intelligence when it came to counting their money and profits...and would notice if a substantial sum of money was missing... He grinned as he lifted a heavy bag of gold and laid it on the dark wood desk: he knew what he could do... The he reached for the ledger and instinctively, he flicked to that date five years earlier, peering at the dragons bought and sold shortly after the damnable date...and finding what he was anticipating...the sale of three Gronckles (red/brown, green/brown, green), a male and female Buffalord breeding pair and one juvenile Razorwhip female, silver with copper flash on her right hind leg.

His fists tightened: Heather's beloved Windshear had the unique copper flash, considered a flaw by breeders, which was why they had been able to afford to buy her. The Gronckles-Elmo, Bugs and Daffy-had been their faithful work-beasts, helping Hiccup plough the poor and rocky land to grow just enough of a meagre harvest to scrape a living and have a small surplus to sell while the Buffalords were a breeding pair they had just purchased to establish a herd...and all six dragons had been stolen as an afterthought after the Trappers had finished with the young couple and turned their neat little cabin into an inferno. The Berserkers had profited from the attack...and then, numbly, he replaced the ledger and lifted the one from nine years earlier...

As expected, Eret had delivered a herd of sixteen Gronckles and four breeding quality Boneknappers. He dropped the ledger and found his hands shaking so hard he couldn't grip the heavy book so he just stared, his eyes burning. They were tied irrevocably to the Trappers, to Viggo and Ryker and Eret whose vicious crimes had scarred Ryder's... _Hiccup's_...life so cruelly. Without thinking, he took the ledger as well, closing the study door behind him and heading upstairs. He knew where he was going.

Still numb, he slid the ledger into his pack then closed the door to the room they had given him and walked slowly down a flight of stairs. He was looking for another room...he had carefully found out which because he knew where the man he was after was assigned a bunk. Ragnar Haraldssen was a man of medium height, moderate paunch and middle years, his saggy, stubbly face cruel and small dark eyes cold. His brown hair was hackled shortish and he was generally snide, unpleasant and rude. Ryder had been elbowed aside and generally been on the receiving end of some unpleasant jibes as he realised who he was dealing with...and the memories had kicked him hard. The man had been very active in his participation of Ryder's own ordeals and well as Heather's rape and murder.

He heard the first sounds of dragons approaching as he sneaked into the room and quietly patted down the bunk, searching the packs and finding the perfect place under the frame to conceal the gold. Satisfied it was secure, he let himself out of the room...as steps thundered up the stairs towards him. And with no reason to be in this part of the house, what could he say? Head snapping round, he found the nearest door and tried it...and as soon as the handle moved, he threw the door open and burst in, closing it silently and leaning against the wood, breathing hard.

Astrid paused in the middle of unbraiding her hair to see him staring at her in sudden horror...not because she was an unpleasant sight-she was, in fact, quite beautiful-but because Dagur would kill him if he found him here.

"What're you doing here?" she asked sharply. He gaped then closed his eyes and abruptly turned to the door.

"Shhh!" he implored her. "Um...wrong door but if I come out now Dagur will see me..."

"And he'll have your ass for breakfast!" Astrid commented.

"Getting really worried about my ass," he sighed. "And...um...the rest of me as well. They've got back and…um… _really_ not keen on being seen..." She finished unfastening her braid, then reached for her brush and began to methodically brush the silky golden mass out.

"What've you been doing, Mister Gunslinger?" she asked quietly.

"Me? Why would you imagine I've been doing anything?" he asked her sarcastically.

"You're hiding in my room, worried about your ass…" She paused and peered at his behind. "Which is pretty cute, by the way…"

"Ha! Ha!" he managed with incredible sarcasm. "Now you know why I'm worried! I told you I had a few things to do…and one of them is down the corridor from you…" The thud of steps was suddenly closing and Astrid looked up in a panic.

"Dagur!" she hissed. "Gods… _hide…!"_ Taking in her terrified face, he threw himself under the bed and pressed as far back against the wall, trying to make his lanky figure as small as he could as the door burst open and two grimy boots stalked towards her. He stiffened as Dagur's hated voice sounded.

"Aren't you pleased to see me, honey? Because I'm pleased to see you…" he menaced, closing to inches from her and obviously kissing her. There were the sounds of fabric rustling and Ryder assumed he was pawing her as well-at the very least. He heard a sobbing breath and could see Astrid's bare feet bracing against the thin woven rug, obviously struggling against his grasp.

"Not now, Dagur…" she begged him, her breaths hitching.

"Have you forgotten what you owe me, Astrid?" he asked her coldly. "Ten thousand dollars!"

"That's a lie and we both know that, Dagur!" she retorted with the smallest flash of spirit. "There is no debt. You kidnapped me and hold me prisoner on a lie! And you use it as an excuse to do what the Hel you want…and you threaten my baby brother if I try to retain any shreds of honour or decency! You're a monster…"

There was the sound of a heavy slap and she staggered then fell to the floor. Ryder could see her breathing hard, see the boots move around her, see one lift and thud into her body, the white cotton nightgown moving as she shifted in pain. And then he saw a hand reach down and grasp the silky mass of her blond hair, hauling her up as she grunted in pain. She was thrown across the bed and he felt the springs above him shift, heard then creak more as he knelt on the bed. And Ryder knew that he couldn't listen to Dagur force her…he _knew_ he would emerge and kill Dagur and probably get himself killed in the process or aftermath. But his hand slid inexorably to the holster on his hip and very slowly, he cocked the hammer as his slid the pistol into his hand.

"You know, you're my bitch…and when I want you, you're mine…" he growled. Ryder slowly slid his legs across the boards, bracing himself as the bed creaked more alarmingly.

"Get _off_ me…" Astrid hissed, her voice choked with hatred and despair.

"Oh, Astrid…" Dagur growled lustfully. "Why are you playing so hard to get? Why do you frustrate me every time? You know it only hurts _more_ when you anger me!"

Ryder heard her swallow, heard her breathe rapidly.

"I don't want you," she said in a tiny voice. "Please, Dagur…don't do this…"

"But I want to…" he growled. Ryder tensed…

Astrid suddenly moved and Dagur flew off the bed, bellowing in pain, rolling across the floor and clutching at his tender parts. Suddenly she was up, her feet planted and fists balled.

"Get out of here!" she hissed. He scrambled up and hit her again and she went down, holding her face. Ryder slowly uncoiled, his hand rising as Dagur lunged at her, grabbed her hair…and then threw her back against the bed, her head hitting the wooden frame with a thud.

"You are gong to regret this, Astrid," he said in a tight voice then slammed out the door. Ryder heard bolts slam into place.

"It's okay-you can come out now…" she managed in a shaky voice and he slid out, his eyes cold and feral.

"I am going to fucking kill him," he breathed, his voice low and husky as he saw the welts on her face and the fact she was shaking almost uncontrollably. Carefully reholslering his gun, he knelt by her, raising a hand to gently stroke her bruised face, tears starting in her azure eyes. "It's okay, Astrid." She shook her head wordlessly.

 _No, it's not,_ her eyes said but she just trembled, eyes closing and tears beginning to slide down her face. And it was instinct that had him gently pull her against his lean shape, his body shaking not with fear or hopelessness but with blinding, white-hot rage. It was simple human compassion that made him pull her head against his chest, that had his hands gently stroke her back and his chin rest softly on her hair. And so he just held her until finally she stopped crying.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly as she slowly lifted her head, her face wet and eyes red. She managed a tiny nod.

"So-so am I…" she gulped as he gently lifted her chin with a calloused finger. His luminous green eyes were completely serious and honest as he stared into her desolate blue gaze.

"Astrid," he said seriously, "I will get you out of here. I promise. You and Gustav. _Trust me._ " She stared into his face and nodded, curling against him again, her eyes closing.

"Th-thank you," she murmured. "But…why…?"

"Because I knew someone like like you once…and there was no one there to help," he murmured softly, feeling her press against him. "If you need me, call me, Astrid. And I will come." She nodded and slowly pulled away as he reluctantly rose to his feet. He gently helped her up and tucked her into the bed, pulling the blanket up and smoothing it out…then he softly brushed a few strands of hair off her bruised face.

"Hiccup?" she asked softly, staring up into the concerned face.

"Hmm?"

"What was she called? Your wife?" she asked him softly, having deciphered his pained words. He flinched at the question and turned away, walking to the window and slowly opening it. He clambered onto the sill.

"Heather," he said in a pained voice as he slammed the shutters closed behind him and leapt down for the wall below. Quietly, he bounced down to the dusty yard another storey below, then dusted himself down and walked to see Hookfang…

…as a pair of dark eyes narrowed, recognising the room he had emerged from. Now this was something that Dagur needed to know…


	13. Chasing Ryder

**Thirteen: Chasing Ryder**

Most of the town of Berk was out to watch the exchange of hostages, mostly secretly relieved that neither gang had gained any sort of decisive advantage over the other. Ryder sneaked out of the Berserker compound and settled himself on the verandah of the hostel where Gobber had settled himself down on a seat, a mug of his horrible mead in his hand with Gustav standing by him, eating piece of burnt toast. The brothers were at the door of the compound and Dagur was mounted on his Skrill, his black hat on as the stocky shape of Snotlout was brought out by Eret, flanked on the other side by the powerful and mute shape of Bucket.

At the other side of the plaza, Alvin was lined up with his men and his wife at his side. Bente was neat in a black dress with white lace collar and black lace shawl, her face serious as she stared across at her adopted son. Beside her, Vorg was standing, looking vaguely embarrassed. Bente had made sure he had been fed a healthy breakfast of porridge and the man had been so unnerved by the ferocious small woman what he had obediently eaten the entire bowl: he was now regretting it like mad and feeling rather queasy. Alvin stared across the Dagur and the Berserker gave a small nod.

"Off yer go-yer brother's callin'," Alvin wheezed and the third Berserker brother ran his hand through his short dark hair and adjusted his hat, then started forward. Snotlout looked up at Eret and then began to make his own way across the plaza. Opposite him, Stoick emerged from the Sheriff's office, his huge black-clad shape straight as he watched the exchange. Gobber waved his mug of mead and the twins hung over the gate to their yard, watching hopefully: there was still a chance it could all go horribly wrong and end in massive violence and death-at least that's what the twins were hoping for…

They two prisoners had almost crossed when Dagur raised a hand.

"Erm…am I the only one thinking this is just a waste of time when we should be shooting both these losers?" he shouted to Alvin. The Outcast leader scowled and roared a furious "NO!" Dagur just gave a small shrug. "Just putting it out there…" he said calmly. "I mean, I was willing to give up my stupidest brother…"

"He's my SON!" Alvin shouted-and it was only because he was looking for it that Ryder noted the brief flinch of pain across Stoick's face. Snotlout actually rolled his eyes at the declaration by the Outcast but didn't spare his Uncle-his only blood kin, by all accounts-a single glance. Watching the men walk steadily back to their respectively families, Ryder leaned closer to Gobber.

"What's the story with Snotface?" he murmured. "I mean I can tell he's a total ass and utterly self-absorbed…but he isn't the Sheriff's son. So where's his Dad?" Gobber peered up at the thoughtful face and sighed.

"Alvin shot him," he admitted heavily, sloshing more of the horrible mead into his mud. "In the plaza when he tried to get his son back from Alvin. Stoick went with him…but Alvin's men held him back and Spitelout was gunned down without mercy. They left Stoick go after Alvin had gone, laughing at him because he was helpless."

"Spitelout?" Ryder muttered. "Boy, you people really need help in the naming department! I don't even know what that is?" Gobber cast him an angry look.

"Spitelout was Stoick's brother," he muttered. "And then Alvin also took Valka's brother…"

"What?" Ryder's voice was low, intense, as his emerald gaze bored into the blacksmith.

"Forget I said anything!" Gobber said urgently. Ryder leaned towards the older man, his face grim.

" _What?"_ he growled. Belligerently, the old blacksmith stuck his jaw out and his furious blue eyes met the grim green gaze.

"Forget. I. Said. Anything!" he growled back. Ryder stole a glance over at the Sheriff then looked back at Gobber.

"You want me to ask him?" he asked coldly. There was a silence as the blacksmith rose to his feet and glared at the lean gunfighter.

"I'll kill you if you do," he said very evenly.

"Then tell me what's going on here!" Ryder retorted. "Because I can tell you now, old man, that what I've realised is that people from this hellhole have fucked my life over more than I could have dreamed. If there is some other bloody disaster going on here, I have a right to know…because, Odin knows, it will probably end up screwing up my life as well!" Gobber stared at him in shock.

"Laddie?" he asked, suddenly shocked. Ryder was breathing hard, his emerald eyes flashing with rage.

"Look, Gobber-I think it's painfully obvious-or maybe not to you idiots here-that I am determined to make what I can out of these murderers and then end them," he growled. "Those assholes who hastened Red's end paid with their lives, Dagur's atrocity has been uncovered-at least by us, those men are buried and Gustav has been rescued." He took a deep breath. "But Dagur and his gang work with the Trappers who killed my wife…and earlier, who murdered my father and rustled our herd. They stole everything from me twice and now I intend to take everything from them." He leaned to within an inch of Gobber's big face. "So tell me, old man-what the hell happened?"

Gobber backed away, shocked at the younger man's intensity. "Er…alright, laddie," he mumbled. He grabbed the bottle and took a long pull of the mead-then he offered the bottle to the younger man. "Tek it," he urged Ryder and the man reluctantly sipped the horrible mead.

"You're trying to kill me before you have to answer me," he grumbled, grimacing as he took a seat by Gobber in the saloon. The older man scratched his chin with his hook and wouldn't meet Ryder's emerald gaze.

"Leo was Valka's twin and they were ne'er apart," he revealed. "When she met and married Stoick, he moved here tae Berk. He was a hardworking and inventive young man-we worked together in the forge…until his sister was murdered by the drifters who stole her son. Leo was convinced that Alvin paid them tae take the woman and boy-tae control Stoick. Mebbe they would ha' survived if all had gone tae plan. But Valka resisted and was killed and the boy was ne'er seen again. Leo was captured by Alvin's men…I was wi' him. He wouldnae stand down-stubborn as a mule, that lad-so they tortured him horribly, broke his legs and left him in a mine tae die. I heard the Whispering Deaths…and a scream…" Then Gobber closed his blue eyes. "He was a brave and decent man who stood up fer what he believed and wanted tae find out the truth of what happened tae his twin sister. And when he was gone, all Stoick had left were his memories…"

Ryder grabbed the bottle and despondently chugged a huge mouthful down. The tale was somehow profoundly depressing. "And no one in this damned town will stand up for anything now?" he asked, coughing slightly. Gobber ashamedly shook his head. Shaking his head slowly, Ryder rose. "I think I need to speak to your Sheriff," he said and abruptly walked out. Gustav and the twins watched him go from the doorway.

"Ye heard?" Gobber asked.

"Er…wow," Gustav commented. "Um…he's had it bad, hasn't he?" Gobber squinted at him. "We…um…may have been listening at the door…um…"

"And we heard him tell you what had happened to him…" Ruff added thoughtfully. "So the Trappers killed his father and his wife? Gods, how old is he to have all that happened to him?"

"He's nae older than ye, lass," Gobber said seriously. "But don't get soft on him. He's a hard and dangerous man and ye saw he was willing tae use the corpses of those murdered soldiers to mek a profit and by all accounts, happy for any for any deaths in pursuit o' that profit. I'd be very wary o'anything he says tae ye!"

"Except he saved me from Snotlout!" Gustav protested. Gobber narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"Don't trust that man," he advised the young boy. "I've seen his sort before. He's damaged but ruthless and he won't hesitate tae abandon ye if it's in his own interest!"

oOo

Sheriff Stoick Haddock had retreated to his office by the time the two gangs had gathered their returned members and retreated to their own compounds. Ryder walked confidently across the dusty plaza, little swirls of dusty blowing past his grubby boots. He glanced up to the Berserker compound and glimpsed a tall, powerful shape in sheepskin at the door: Eret. Forest green eyes glittering, Ryder looked back at the office and shifted the saddle bag over his shoulder, then rapped on the door and let himself in.

Stoick looked up from his desk, his huge and powerful shape tensing slightly at the lean gunslinger. The man had thick flaming red hair, trimmed very neatly but he had a huge beard that seemed amazingly anachronous. His grey-green eyes peered sharply at the stranger before him, then he laid down his pen and rested his big hands flat on the desk. His white shirt was crisp and his brocade waistcoat and pants were jet black. Ryder stared into the unfriendly face and tipped his hat.

"I need to speak to you," he said without preamble.

"Evidently," the Sheriff growled, his voice cold. Ryder inclined his head and slung his saddle-bag onto the desk. He drew out the ledger and flipped it open to the page, then handed it to Stoick. The Sheriff arched a thick eyebrow.

"I know you have signally failed to bring the Outcasts and Berserkers to justice for their very evident and huge litany of crimes," Ryder said calmly. "In fact, have you actually arrested them for anything? Littering? Double-parking a horse? Spitting?" Stoick's arctic gaze bored into his slightly-mocking expression. "So I'm bringing you another option: receiving stolen goods." Stoick peered at the ledger and shook his head.

"There's no way that can be proven…" he growled.

"Actually, there is," Ryder told him sternly, his finger hovering over a specific entry. "These dragons were stolen. Five days earlier, these specific dragons were stolen from the 'Freya's Edge' Ranch near Nutjob. They were registered via the Central Dragon Stock Registry to Espen Randall, two years earlier. They were stolen when the farm was rustled and he was murdered. The witness-his son-escaped and lodged the report including the report of the stolen dragons-which I believe is a hanging offence in this territory still. It is still live and filed in the Nutjob Sheriff's Office. You can always telegraph them to confirm what I have said."

"Hmm," Stoick said, his face still stony.

"I have brought you the proofs-and news that the man who led the raid-one Eret Eretson, one of the Grimborn Trappers' men-is here in Berk," Ryder growled. "Aren't you even vaguely interested in having some way to inconvenience those Berserkers? Even slightly?"

Stoick remained impassive.

"I don't suppose there's another Sheriff I can take this to?" Ryder asked after a silent moment. There was an edge of exasperation to his voice. "Or should I go to the State Marshals and ask if they're interested in justice?"

Stoick snorted. "Now you're interested in justice?" he scoffed gruffly. "You shot four men down in cold blood and laughed at my authority-and suddenly you want my help?" Ryder stiffened, his eyes growing cold.

"So your pride is hurt, eh, Sheriff?" Ryder taunted him. "Big baby boo! Believe it or not, I am trying to help you, _Sheriff_. The men I killed were all criminals who should have been arrested years ago-but weren't. I'm no angel, Sheriff, but I never woke up one morning and decided on this life. This was all I had left after they had taken everything else. Because had you people-had YOU-stopped those trappers when they killed my father and stole our herd…" And his hand slammed down on the ledger, his eyes suddenly blazing. "Had you stopped them, my wife would still be alive! Our farm wouldn't have been raided by them and she…wouldn't have been murdered!"

He straightened up, the look of anger and contempt ugly on his face. He was breathing hard as he stared at the bulk of the Sheriff. Then he grabbed his bag and turned to the door.

"And remember this, Sheriff. I have tried to do this using the law. This is the only thing I could come up with. And if you won't help me, then everything that happens from now on is on your head." He lifted his chin, his shoulders tightening visibly. "I'm not letting this go…not now I've finally found them…"

The slam of the door was loud as he strode out, leaving the Sheriff staring at the ledger. Slowly, almost unconsciously, he ran a thick finger along the entry…and noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the book. Frowning, he silently pulled it free-and saw a neatly penned statement, outlining the raid on the farm, the murder of Espen Randall and a very accurate description of the livestock stolen-sixteen Gronckles with a description of each and the breeding stock of Boneknappers-a rare dragon species that would be very easy to track through markets and Dragon Stock Breeders. His eyes lingered on the date-yesterday-and the left-slanting signature with the name printed underneath. A name that did not read 'Ryder' but rather…

'Hiccup Randall'.

Stoick blinked and his eyes flicked to the treasured silver-framed sepia photograph of a younger Stoick with his beloved Valka seated before him in her finest gown, their yearling son in her lap. It had been taken at Hiccup's birthday, just over a week before the family was wrenched apart by the 'drifters' that neither Stoick nor Leo had believed were drifters but rather men hired by Alvin to remove a troublesome and incorruptible Sheriff. He closed his eyes. Leo had been driven, chasing down every lead as Stoick had focussed on trying to find his missing son-and grieving his murdered wife. His thumb rubbed tenderly over the image of Valka and his baby son Hiccup…

…a very unusual name…

He frowned and leaned to his right, unlocking the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a sheath of papers he hadn't looked at for years…Leo's notes which he had made and left with Stoick before he and Gobber went to arrest Alvin as Stoick's sworn-in deputies…

…the catastrophic mission that cost Leo his life and Gobber his hand…the mission that had proven Stoick had no authority, no support from the town…and no hope of ever getting justice…

His eyes flicked over the neat script. Leo was a ferociously intelligent, kind and determined man, brilliantly inventive and utterly devoted to his sister. His determination to bring to justice those who had murdered his sister and consumed the last months of his life and he had been tireless in pursuing the men while Stoick had surrendered to his grief. He lifted the page and looked at the names of the men Leo had traced as being responsible-Gods alone knew how he had gotten the information-and the Sheriff froze as he read one name…

…Espen Randall.

Fumbling, he snatched the statement given by the lean and lanky gunslinger, a man with piercing forest green eyes that seemed very familiar and messy auburn hair that exactly echoed the long silky auburn locks he had run his fingers through as he courted his wife…

He blinked. _Impossible!_ It was just tiredness and a hang-over.

The date of the attack had been nine years earlier and the witness- _Hiccup Randall-_ had stated he was twelve years of age, making him currently…twenty-one…

…the same age as his own son would have been now…

He shook his head, dispelling the disturbing and frankly insane thought. His son, his Hiccup was dead and the men who killed him and beloved Valka were long gone…

…but the stranger had handed him a way to at least start reclaiming his town and turn back into the man Valka married, the man she loved… So he grabbed his hat and coat and headed for the telegraph office, composing the message as he walked. Finally, he had a lead.

oOo

Dragonmaster Fishlegs had watched the exchange with interest, then headed to the town Archive. The fact he was also Town Archivist meant he had free access and he knew exactly what he needed to look at. So he headed to section where the records and artefacts of the founding families were kept…including the Haddocks. He sighed. The stranger, Ryder, was a curious problem. He was undoubtedly a very dangerous sharp-shooter, a man who had announced his arrival in town by gunning down four men but he had been genuinely concerned about his old and dying dragon, recklessly spending a huge amount of money on Fireworm Gel in a last desperate and futile attempt to save the beast. And it seemed he rescued Gustav from the Outcasts clutches as well.

Fishlegs frowned as he walked further back into the Archives and lifted his oil lamp, peering at the pictures on the wall, old paintings of the founding fathers, all staring grimly back at the observer. As the big man walked along, he stiffened and his blue eyes widened in shock. He was staring at an oil painting from over twenty years earlier of a younger Stoick, his beautiful and glowing wife, their newborn son clutched in her arms. But what made Fishlegs stare was the fourth person in the picture, the lean and lanky shape standing on the other side of Valka Haddock-her twin brother, Leo. The man was tall and skinny, his messy auburn mop tousled and bright forest-green eyes filled with pride at his new nephew.

He was the image of Ryder.

Fishlegs stared up into the exact green eyes of the stranger, captured by the artist and recalled that he had stared up at that image when he had been back here as a younger man, completing his Dragon Master assignments. The Archives were the only quiet place in town and he had spent countless hours staring up at the little family…as it had been before before it had been torn apart. And Fishlegs, who had been about five when it all happened, recalled Leo as a kind man who had always played with the curious little Fishlegs, never failing to encourage his enthusiasm in dragons and had spent the time to take him to play with his dragon, a rare Flightmare that had vanished with his death. He shook his head and stared into the dead man's eyes. In that unguarded moment in the saloon, Ryder had been his exact image.

And then Fishlegs turned back to the front of the Archives and grabbed the Dragonpedia he had been searching for, before walking very slowly back to his shop. His mind was whirling as he glanced at the powerful shape of the Sheriff walking from the telegraph office. It was impossible…wasn't it?

oOo

Snotlout was seething. Lately, his plans were being thwarted and it all seemed to be through the damned stranger, Ryder. His plan to get Astrid to move in with him had failed with Gustav's rescue, his favourite men had been shot down by the man when he arrived and worst of all, he had been captured and held hostage by the Berserkers on that wild goose chase the stranger had sent them on. Though it had afforded him the opportunity to observe the Berserkers and Ryder. He smiled. He had also seen Astrid and though she had completely ignored him, he could tell she would far rather be with him than that lunatic Dagur. All he needed to do now was undermine Ryder and get Astrid where she should be-at his side…

What was even worse was that the dragons were all upset. Someone had unbolted the Whispering Deaths and they had attacked and killed Svein, one of their more steady men. Alvin was furious and had banned his son from riding the agitated dragons, knowing they would be very dangerous now they had tasted human flesh but Snotlout had never been impressed with the blind dragons anyway. He wanted something with the power and prestige he felt he deserved. And to get hold of that, he needed to buy a dragon…from a Dragon Merchant. And the only ones in town…were the Berserkers…

Without any concern, he wandered through the house to Alvin's study and let himself in without knocking. "I need a dragon," he said without preamble. The Outcast leader sat up straighter, his face folding into a scowl.

"You got a dragon!" he growled.

"Yeah-one I can't ride because it may have gone feral from eating Svein and it can't cope in the sunlight anyway! C'mon, Al!" Snotlout wheedled. "Face facts. The Whispering Deaths are perfect for the Project but face facts! They're useless for anything else!" Alvin's eyes narrowed.

"So yer wants that Night Fury?" he scorned. Snotlout shook his head.

"It was pretty small," he grumbled. "I really need something with more…presence…" Sitting back, Alvin's fists clenched.

"Like what?" he spat.

"I can always see what is in stock…" Snotlout smirked and Alvin stumbled to his feet.

"You're insane!" he spat. "I forbid it!" Snotlout turned away and headed for the door.

"Dad," he said, "this is business!"

He stalked across the plaza briskly, his fists clenched and face locked in a scowl of anger: Snotlout's one and only care was for Snotlout and he never saw any reason why he should be denied anything-not even if it meant dealing with your most visceral enemy. And he almost totally lacked any self-consciousness so he had no issues walking brazenly to the door of the Berserker compound and announcing himself. The Berserker gang just stared at him in shock and called Savage. Snotlout folded his arms and scowled fiercely as the oldest Berserker brother walked up. Predictably, he started laughing as soon as he clapped eyes on the stocky, jet-haired young man.

"Couldn't stay away, Snotpants?" he sneered. Snotlout's black brows dipped further.

"Actually, this is meant as a business transaction!" he shot back irritably. He hated being laughed at and had an all-too-high opinion of himself. Savage tried to calm down. "You _are_ dragon merchants, aren't you?"

"Indeed!" Dagur announced, arriving with a calculating look on his face, his pale green eyes inspecting the angry young man. "But our prices are rather steep-after all, we only serve the upper end of the market…" Snotlout walked up to him and grinned.

"Then I'm in the right place," he announced. "Show me what you've got!" For a moment, Dagur clasped his hands in front of his chest and bowed his head, as if thinking…and then he nodded.

"Follow me…" he said in a businesslike voice. "I presume you don't have a restriction on your price range…" Snotlout shook his head.

"While you don't buy munitions from us, you are the only Merchants for miles and we are all businessmen here," he said arrogantly. "Take me to your finest dragons…"

Ryder watched as the Outcast heir walked confidently into the yard and started to inspect the dragons. Snotlout knew what he wanted and he scorned a couple of very friendly Gronckles and the beautiful Nadder, Stormfly-which was a relief to Astrid, who was peering from the window. Ryder glanced up and shook his head, advising her to stay away: if Snotlout knew she meant anything to the girl, he had a sick feeling that Snotlout would buy it just to punish her for not accepting his suit. Quietly, he walked to Hookfang's cage and stroked the Monstrous Nightmare gently, watching Snotlout's arrogant behaviour. He knew the man would be a poor owner and rider but what could he do? He was just an employee and in a precarious position.

And then Snotlout caught sight of the lean gunslinger and noted the way the man gently stroked the dragon and leaned to murmur to him. His eyes narrowed as he saw the dragon crane its long neck to the lanky shape and purr affectionately.

"What about that one?" he said pointedly, indicating to Hookfang and walked forward. Dagur gestured brusquely to Ryder and, with a reluctant glance, he backed away, watching the young dragon. Snotlout pointedly inspected the sleek shape and then held his hand out, looking away. Hookfang glanced up at Ryder and the man felt his heart sink but nodded. There was a pause and the dragon reluctantly pushed his snout into Snotlout's hand. The young man looked up triumphantly, his blue eyes alighting on Ryder's shape. "I'll take him!" he announced.

"A fine choice," Dagur said cheerfully, gesturing towards the house. "He's young, recently broken and fully trained for riding. Now, let's just finish the paperwork and take payment." Snotlout grinned superiorly, giving the dragon a final rub before turning and walking past Ryder, casting him a smug look. The gunslinger watched them vanish into the house, knowing with a sick sensation that Snotlout had only chosen the dragon because he had seen Ryder with it. He stared after the men: there was a prickling unease in his stomach because Snotlout knew more about his dealings than he would want and all he could rely on was the animosity that existed between Outcasts and Berserkers to stop him spilling any secrets. He stared after the young Outcast heir: there was something about Snotlout that made his skin crawl as well.

In the office, Snotlout watched Savage complete the ledger and sell him the dragon so he then handed over the price in gold. Dagur was watching him and the younger man turned to face the Berserker.

"You know, I don't see why _we_ should be enemies," Snotlout said thoughtfully. "Your beef is with Al, isn't it?" Dagur and Savage shared a glance: they had long since realised that Snotlout was the weakest link. But his next words had them shocked. "And if you guys are the winners, why should I stay on the losing side?" Both brothers gaped.

"Um…he's your father?" Savage managed to croak.

"Adopted," Snotlout told them carelessly. "I moved from the Sheriff's family when there was a better opportunity…and now…I think changing allegiances may be in my best interest…"

"I..er…" Savage stared at him in shock and then up at Dagur. The leader of the Berserkers gave a nonchalant shrug.

"Hey-I got two idiot brothers," he commented. "Why not one more?" Snotlout grinned.

"And as a gesture of good faith…" he said in a low voice, "let me tell you how the Outcasts knew about those soldiers…"

 **Uh-oh...**

 **And yes, this is a very OOC and VERY BAD Snotlout!**


	14. Four Down

**Fourteen: Four Down…**

Ryder stayed away as Hookfang was muzzled and led out of the Berserker compound, trying not to watch the process where his friend was removed but he did note with some satisfaction when the dragon set fire to Snotlout's pants. There was no way during the day that he could visit the Night Fury-which he had ironically named Toothless-in case Dagur realised what he was doing...and besides, he needed to observe the Trappers.

It was probably the hardest task he could have set himself, for every time he saw Eret, he had to consciously remind himself that shooting him dead would only avenge his father and leave others unavenged or at risk. And every time he thought that, the faces of Astrid and the Night Fury warred in his memory. He could understand the dragon-because he had already bonded with Toothless, as he had with Red-but every time he thought of Astrid, he felt a tiny glow of warmth and he had to remind himself that this was for Heather and that he couldn't allow himself to feel anything for the blonde girl. But he found his heart jolted slightly whoever he saw her in the compound and his lips twitched in an unconscious smile when she flashed him a small smile when she passed him on the stairs.

 _For the Gods sake, get a grip!_ he reminded himself. _If Dagur sees you, he won't hesitate to kill you..._ And he focussed on watching the trappers and especially Lars Forsberg, the last man from Heather's murder who wasn't already being dealt with. It was easy because Dagur's men didn't like the Trappers: the men were cocky, coarse and foul-mouthed, always bragging about their exploits and the souvenirs they had gathered in the course of their jobs. Eret had an especially fine knife decorated with Deathsong Amber and bound in a Deathsong hide sheath while Lars had a necklace made of Terrible Terror teeth. For a man such as Ryder who had farmed and wrangled dragons, he found the momentos offensive but he quietly watched the men as they helped break in the new Gronckles.

After a while, Eret walked cockily up to the stranger and loomed over him as he leaned calmly against the wall.

"Think you could do better, eh?" he scoffed. Ryder took a deep breath and shrugged.

"Interested in seeing how you guys do it," he forced himself to say. "Always instructive to see an _expert_ at work…" Eret shot him a jaundiced look. He had caught the edge of sarcasm on his voice and had watched Ryder closely himself: he knew the man was more than he seemed. Lars opened a cage and a male Gronckle emerged. Eret backed away as Ryder watched the dragon buzz around, looking for a way out of the training yard, the mesh of chains forming the roof preventing escape. He liked Gronckles for they were generally gentle, biddable and friendly…unless treated poorly. There had been countless times where he wondered what had become of his trio…especially Elmo, who had been very affectionate. Watching Eret wrestle the dragon down and kick it hard as he fastened the chains around its back paws, he turned away, realising how the poor beasts would have been treated. Shaking his head, he walked away…until he heard a loud voice.

"Thinks he knows better," Eret sneered. Ryder's fists clenched and his shoulders stiffened.

"Know different…" he ground out through his teeth. "Not everything has to be pain and fear. Dragons respond to trust."

"And they obey those they fear," Eret scoffed. "They respond to _strength_! These are stupid beasts. Some are a bit more cunning-but all they are…is animals!"

Ryder lowered his head and tilted his head slightly to peer at the bulky shape through the corner of his eye. "As you say," he muttered tonelessly. _Red had saved his life. The Night Fury chose not to take his hand. Mindless? Hardly. But they seemed far more loyal and trustworthy than anyone within the Berserker compound._

"Bet you've never trained a wild dragon!" Eret challenged him. Ryder looked away.

"None of your business," he mouthed, starting to walk back towards the main house.

"That means no," Geir sneered, joining in the fun.

"I think the dragons would scare him," Eret taunted him.

"Would he need his Mommy?" Geir added. "Or his Daddy?" He flinched.

"Are you scared, skinny?" Lars asked him snidely.

"Of you? I doubt it," Ryder said quietly. "Rockfalls, tornados, bubonic plague, raiders, typhoid, Gobber's mead and cooking and taxes-yeah. But you? Not a chance. You're a pile of gutless white meat that isn't even worth feeding to a Terrible Terror!" Lars grabbed at his pistol as Ryder turned to face him, his eyes frozen green chunks of ice. "Are you scared of _me_?" he added in a low, menacing voice, speaking to the Trapper.

"What's going on here?" Dagur asked from the entrance, his expression suspicious-especially when his gaze alighted on the stranger. "Eret, my friend? Is this man causing a problem?" Eret folded his arms with a smug smile.

"I believe he insulted one of my trappers…" he began but Dagur gave a small smile.

"Why would a man wear a pistol and then let himself be insulted?" he noted, his eyes fixing on the lean stranger, his face set in an implacable expression. He had heard the men insulting the gunslinger. "Or your man for that matter?" he added, earning himself a sharp stare from Eret. Then the Berserker looked around the Trappers, his expression cynical. "Has anyone here seen this man shoot? Anyone?"

Savage and Vorg ambled up, both shaking their heads and Astrid appeared at the door of the house, her eyes concerned. But Ryder's emerald gaze was locked on Lars. Dagur turned grimly back to the two men."No one?" he said with mock surprise. "And to think we are paying so much for his services. Maybe it would be sensible to expect a demonstration…" He turned to his brothers and finally beckoned Astrid over. Reluctantly, she walked forward, her chin up and face neutral. "What do you think, honey? D'you think Red here is as quick on the draw as everyone says?" She stiffened as he wrapped his arm around her waist and her eyes momentarily met his, the warning plain. But Ryder gave the slightest nod and then glared back at Lars and the other Trappers.

"I am sure he can take care of himself," she murmured softly.

"Really? _REALLY?_ And how could you possibly know that?" Dagur suddenly shouted at her. "You know, I wanna see! NOW!" Ryder stiffened and backed up a step, his eyes flicking from man to man. Eret backed up as well, stepping away from Geir and Lars, who both gave nasty grins and dropped their hands by their pistols. "But we have to be fair," Dagur said, tightening his grip on Astrid's waist. "On the count of three…"

Ryder's left hand dropped to hang close to his pistol, his fingers moving slightly to keep loose as the other men faced him. Every sense was on edge, his shoulders back and eyes focussed as Dagur drew Astrid back and his brothers withdrew to the verandah, all of them enjoying the show.

"ONE."

Dagur's voice echoed through the training yard as Ryder tracked the men. Lars was still confident, his hand close to his pistol. Geir was twitchy, nervous and his eyes darted around incessantly.

"TWO."

Eret had backed away but he still had his gun and the three brothers were also armed. Dagur was rumoured to be ferociously fast, a man who killed for the slightest excuse. Ryder's fingers twitched as his emerald gaze locked on Lars. The image on him on Heather, of her screams and pleas ran through him one last horrific time…

"THREE!"

Three hands moved but only one gun fired, two shots echoing round as Lars fell back with a hole in his heart while Geir went down like a felled tree, the hole in his forehead dribbling blood on his shocked features. Ryder swung his gun round to cover Eret.

"Fast enough for you?" he rasped, having to physically force himself to lower the gun. Every fibre of his being was screaming to kill Eret but Dagur would shoot him in the back if he killed his 'friend' without his permission. And, sick as he was, Dagur had only authorised the death of the two trappers, not their leader. _And Ryder, of course,_ he reminded himself. Breathing hard, he reholstered his pistol. Dagur began clapping ironically.

"Okay, Savage-I agree," he said. "You did get a good deal."

"That goes for one of us," Ryder muttered. And then Eret charged him, bearing him to the ground. Taken off-guard, he went down under the bigger, heavier man, almost pinned…but he was brave and determined so he managed to throw Eret off, punching him in the face as the two scrambled to a low couch, ready for combat. Eret lunged and threw Ryder down and, as he rolled, the big trapper was at his throat, hands tightening around his neck viciously. Face growing puce, Ryder slammed his knee up, feeling no shame or sympathy as the man gave a frantic scream and curled away. Coughing and struggling for air, Ryder scrabbled away as well, backing up as Eret reached for his gun…

…to the click as Ryder's gun pointed at his big forehead, the aim steady and distance little more than six inches. "Think…I can miss…from this distance…?" he croaked. Eret dropped his hand…as another click sounded. With a sigh, Ryder looked up-to see, as expected, Dagur's gun pointing at his chest.

"Enough!" the Berserker snapped. "You take the fun out of everything, you know?" With an ironic arch of the brow, he uncocked his gun and slid it back into the holster.

"At least I'm consistent," he muttered.

"You are a thorn in my side!" Dagur sneered. "I have my eye on you…" Ryder folded his arms, his eyes glittering with anger.

"About that," Ryder growled. "You charged me five thousand for losing you the Night Fury…but he's there in a cage in your yard. So how does that work _exactly_? Does it now belong to me? Or have you cancelled the debt?"

"Neither-because I had to employ Eret to get him back-and that's on your tab as well…" Dagur sneered. Ryder went rigid, his eyes narrowing with hatred.

"I rather thought you got him back, Dagur," he pointed out coldly. "If you'd asked, I would've done it myself."

"You think I'd trust you with my Night Fury any more than I'd trust you with…" Dagur raged and then caught himself, his grip now painful around Astrid's waist. Ryder saw the wince of pain cross her face and he forced himself to smile.

"Wow-if you feel like that, maybe I should offer my services to another employer…maybe Al would be interested…" he suggested.

"Over my dead body!" Savage growled.

"Interesting choice of words," Ryder, said, unfolding his arms and consciously loosening his shoulders.

"You belong to ME!" Dagur shouted, his face puce with rage. "Until you pay me back, you are mine! Now get out of my sight!" Without a word and head down, he walked past and into the house, his hand on his bleeding lip. He flicked a very small, warning glance to Astrid as he strode by and headed up to his assigned room. Eret straightened up.

"Why did you let him kill my men?" he growled. "Why didn't _you_ kill him?"

"Because a man should know his enemy," Dagur growled. "And now I've seen him shoot and fight. That's a big advantage. And I suppose I _did_ make him fight the duel. It would be bad for morale to execute him for something I ordered him to do…"

"…done it before…" Savage muttered.

"But I know he's a treacherous bastard so I want him neutered," Dagur growled menacingly. "I know he's stolen from me and I have some fun planned with that skinny smart-mouthed streak of piss!" He turned to his brother. "How much did he steal from us?" Savage narrowed his eyes.

"Three thousand," he reported grimly. "Vanished when he was reported sneaking around the house. He was spotted in the study." Astrid pulled away from Dagur but he grabbed her arm and jerked her around.

"Where are you going?" he snapped. "I think you need to see this-to be reminded what happens when you cross Dagur the Deranged…" She stared up into the mad green eyes and saw the brothers and Eret head rapidly up after the stranger, hauling her along. And there was only one thought in her mind:

 _They know._

oOo

As soon as he reached his room, Ryder searched the small space furiously. He really didn't trust Dagur and his suspicions were aroused when he located a small bag of coins stuffed under his bed. Swiftly, he reached his window and dragged the shutters open, checking that no one was around…and then lobbing the pouch as far as he could into the Gronckle cages. He gave a small smile as the bulky dragon nudged the scattered coins then methodically began to eat them. He swiftly pulled the shutters closed as he heard the sounds of footsteps approach and turned slowly as the brothers and Eret burst into his room.

"Wow-couldn't you knock?" he asked. "I could have been changing for a shower…" Eret glowered at him and Dagur advanced on him.

"Where is it?" he growled.

"Um…what?" Ryder asked innocently. Vorg and Savage ripped his bed apart, tossing the blankets and mattress aside, ripping the pillow open and exploring the bed frame…but finding nothing. They poured the entire contents of his pack out and patted him down. "Not that I'm not flattered, really, but if you tell me what you're looking for, maybe I can help…"

"He must have an accomplice!" Vorg growled.

"Um…still here…" Ryder commented. "And doubt I have any accomplices-or friends-among your men, to be honest…not the most friendly bunch…" The brothers glared at each other: the money had to be somewhere…so they began searching the other rooms half-heartedly…until they got to Ragnar's Haraldsen's room. Feeling under his bed, Savage frowned and then lifted the soft leather pouch: with a frown, he poured the gold coins into his palm. He looked up to his brother.

"Get Ragnar!" Dagur said in an arctic voice. Vorg sped off as Astrid was pushed back against the wall, Savage restraining her wrist. Ragnar ambled up confidently, catching a glance of Ryder and mouthing an insult.

"What's the twig doing here?" he sneered. Dagur moved forward, his voice soft and calm.

"My friend, what's that on the bed?" he asked mildly. Ragnar looked-and saw the spilled golden coins. His eyes popped wide and he began to sweat profusely.

"D-Dagur…" he stammered, backing away. "I-I don't know what's happened but those aren't mine…"

"No, they're not…" Dagur said calmly. "And they shouldn't be there, should they?" Ragnar shook his head desperately,

"D-Dagur…please…I-I don't know what happened…" he begged. "You know I would never steal from you…"

"But you did…" Dagur said in a dead voice. "But I'm going to be fair and give you a chance…" He backed up a step, his face grim as he motioned to his brother. "Brother…Count…"

"Dagur…please…" Ragnar begged. "Please…I would never ever…"

"ONE."

Ryder pressed back against the wall, his hand resting on his gun. He could see the man whimpering and backing away, pleading and begging…

… _just as Heather had begged…just as he had pleaded with them to have mercy, to spare them…_

"TWO."

Dagur drew and fired on two, the report of shot after shot echoing round the room. Ragnar slid down the wall, half a dozen ragged holes in his chest and a huge red smear on the wall behind him. Dagur smugly reholstered his gun and stared at him, then turned away. His brothers and Eret followed, escorting Astrid up to her room. Ryder stared up after her…then turned away to his room. He raced up and repacked his bag, hefting his mattress onto the bed and chucking the blanket onto the bed. He threw the shutters open and stared across the yard, peering at the Gronckles and, beyond, to the caged Night Fury. He felt suddenly lost-because they were all dead.

All four remaining men who had raped and murdered Heather, who had battered and beat him within an inch of his life, burnt down their farm and stolen their herd were dead. Admittedly, Lars was a bonus, though Ryder had been prepared to shoot the man down if necessary-and Dagur had helped him unexpectedly. And suddenly his revenge was done…except Eret still lived. He rested his hands against the window-frame and stared vacantly across the yard. And then he retrieved the knife from his boot that he had stolen when Eret jumped him: the Deathsong-amber knife that was so unique to the man. He peered into the warm resin and smiled: he knew exactly how he could do this…

oOo

Stoick checked for the return telegraph and read the message with a small smile. It was the first good news he had received in…however long…and he knew that this time, he would need back up. So he sent out a message to the State Marshals, requesting back-up in arresting dragon rustlers and a merchant who he had proof was receiving rustled dragons. Knowing how seriously the crime was considered by the state government, Stoick left the office with a spring in his step and headed towards the saloon-when he was intercepted by Dragonmaster Fishlegs. The Sheriff peered at the husky young man, reading concern in his round blue eyes.

"Sir," he said. "I need to speak to you-about Ryder."

Stoick started, turning to inspect the younger man. His own wild suspicions swirled back and he frowned. "Speak," he growled, his voice cold. Fishlegs sighed.

"Please come into the Archive, sir," he murmured. Stoick wordlessly followed as the young man led them to the back and the Haddock family memorabilia…including the portrait of his own family. The Dragonmaster indicated to Valka's brother and Stoick stared at the image of his twenty-years dead brother-in-law. He froze, meeting familiar emerald green eyes and messy auburn hair. Eyes widening at the sight, the Sheriff backed off a pace.

"Impossible," he murmured. Fishlegs nodded.

"And yet he is the image of Leo Gudmundir," he said quietly. "I am not sure how that happened, sir…but…" Stoick stared hard at the young man, his expression softening at his memories of the brave and loyal kinsman who had died doing what Stoick should have. The finest smile twitched his lips.

"I think you are right," he said gruffly. "But you are not to say anything to him-or any of the others. I want to speak to him myself…because, Gods know, I need to know what happened…and why he is a stone-cold killer."

"Sir-I think he is your son," Fishlegs said but Stoick gave a small shake of his head.

"Fishlegs, he was born my son-but he was stolen from me a long time ago," he sighed. "Another man raised him as his son, a man he refers to as his father…one of the men who actually stole him from me. He's now a grown man, filled with anger and bitterness. I can never be his father-another man stole that from me a long time ago. Maybe, if I can speak to him we could be…family…"

"Sir, I…"

"Please, respect my judgement in this, Fishlegs. I know you mean well but what has been lost…can never be restored."

Staring at the huge man, Fishlegs gave a small nod. The man's tone was not as excited as he had expected: it was still the voice of a man who had given up hope of a happy ending to his story. Then he frowned: there was one other person he could talk to.

oOo

Ryder was sent to work in the compound with the Trappers, caring for the dragons while they trained the few remaining unbroken dragons back in the training yard. Dagur, his brothers and most of the other men had flown out to an auction with the consignment of Boulder class dragons they had gathered in the badlands and should be away overnight. Astrid had been locked in her room under the silent guard of Bucket and Eret had left the compound an hour after they had left on an errand for the Berserker. Glancing around, Ryder knew he had a few hours to himself yet.

After gently petting Stormfly, he dropped in and fed and petted the Night Fury which no one-except Dagur-was officially allowed to approach. The Berserker still hadn't realised that Ryder had already bonded with the Night Fury-and Toothless would never accept Dagur now. Toothless crooned gently and warbled softly, nuzzling his hand and licking the fresh scars round his wrist. The dragon seemed genuinely sorry for his wounds and Ryder gave him a good hard rub.

"It's okay, bud," he murmured. "When I leave this place, I'll get you out of here. I won't leave you for Dagur. I'll never let him hurt you."

But he had one other person to free as well-because Astrid was being treated worse than ever and the mute plea in her eyes had reminded him of the promise he had made to her. He glanced across at the couple of remaining Trappers: they had settled down for the afternoon with a couple of jugs of mead and a pack of cards at the back of the yard. He smiled: they were safely out of the way for the moment so at least he could try to speak with her. Checking once more, he scrambled onto the low wall and swarmed up, using the small walls and window sills to clamber up to her window…and he gently pulled the shutters open to peer in…

…to see the room in chaos. The bed was completely disarrayed, the chair and dressing table overturned and Astrid possessions were strewn over the floor. A hank of blonde hair and a few spots of blood were on the floor…but nothing else. The door had been forced open, the locks smashed in and Ryder stared in horror.

Astrid was gone.


	15. I Promised

**Fifteen: I promised.**

Ryder stared for a long moment at the wrecked room before grasping the window-frame and swinging his lean body in. He landed agilely and placed around, then dropped to one knee by the hank of blonde hair and tenderly lifted it: the silky strands were definitely Astrid's. Then he gently touched the spots of blood which were sticky and cold: this had happened only a little while earlier…definitely since Dagur and the gang had flown out with their dragons for auction.

He stood and looked around: the tale was plain. The door had been kicked in and Astrid had been snatched. There were signs of a struggle and his lips tilted in a small smile at the thought of the feisty woman resisting her kidnappers-but it had proven futile. Shaking his head, he poked his head round the door and saw Bucket unconscious on the floor. It would certainly take a couple of very powerful men to overcome the mute and Ryder knew who was likely to be responsible…the man who had his eye on his 'Princess'. Snotlout.

He walked down the stairs swiftly. Dagur's absence and Snotlout's utter lack of introspection meant he had snatched Dagur's obsession and if the gunslinger left things, war would break out and the two gangs would destroy each other…or perhaps, Dagur would destroy the Outcasts. He paused. That probably wouldn't be the best outcome for Berk though it would be justice for the Sheriff in avenging his lost wife and son. He blinked. _Why had he even thought of the Sheriff now?_ He blinked. He could wait for Dagur to take matters into his own hands and maybe innocent people wouldn't get caught in the crossfire…but by then, Snotlout would have raped Astrid and claimed her as his 'Princess'.

He headed across the yard, unnoticed by the drinking Trappers or the couple of remaining men from the Berserker gang and headed directly to the main yard. Confidently, he walked up to Stormfly's cage and petted the Nadder gently, murmuring reassurances to the blue and gold dragon. She croaked gently and rubbed against his hand as he smiled: he really was happiest when with the dragons-it was just the people that were the problem. He had learned that confidence was a vital trait because if a man looked as if he knew what he was doing, then others would believe it as well. So he grabbed the saddle and let Stormfly out, saddling the calm and biddable dragon expertly and leading her to the gates…but he paused by the Night Fury cage and crouched down, leaning against the bars at the whimpering dragon.

"Please don't make those whimper sounds," he begged gently. "I haven't forgotten my promise, bud. I _will_ come back for you. I just gotta help Astrid first…" He stretched his hand through the bars and the Night Fury pressed his muzzle into his palm without hesitation. Unwillingly, Ryder found himself smiling, leaning his head against the bars. "I'm taking you outta here, Toothless," he promised. "We'll go together and be free of Berk and all of this…I promise." The dragon rubbed gently against him as he pulled away, then stood and led Stormfly away, swinging into the saddle.

"Where're you going?" the man on duty, Ingvar, called and Ryder flashed him his lopsided grin.

"The Nadder needs exercise or she'll start to deteriorate," he said cockily. "I'm sure Dagur won't want to lose her value…unless you want to take responsibility for that?" The man backed away, shaking his head urgently. They had all seen Ryder tending the dragons and it was obvious even to their inexpert eye that he really knew what he was doing: if he said Dagur wanted him to look after the dragons, they weren't going to argue. Not after Ragnar.

Ryder leaned forward and Stormfly arrowed up, wings pumping and spines flattened to make her more streamlined as she arrowed up into skies, idling and spinning, before finally levelling out after the first exultant rush. Ryder found himself breathing hard: she was a really fast and very beautiful creature that was a thrill to fly. So as he apparently exercised her over the skies of Berk, he was able to bank and inspect the extensive Outcast compound.

There were surprisingly few men patrolling and the stables were open, showing that Alvin and his men had headed out Gods knew where on some trip. It was probably why Snotlout had made his move now-without Alvin's moderating influence and firm hand and with the crazed Dagur absent. In fact, there was no one visible in the yard at all-and only one dragon…one that Ryder knew he could control. He circled again as the sun dipped to the horizon and he landed as dusk began to fall, leaping from the Nadder and walking to Hookfang, who perked up and raced to nuzzle against his hand. He rubbed the Monstrous Nightmare's face affectionately and grinned.

"Shhh," he murmured. "Don't want Snotlout to know, do we?" The dragon rumbled and settled down like an expectant puppy with Stormfly at his side. Then he headed directly into the house, every sense straining and gun in hand. Stealthily, he listened for any other signs of life in the silent, dark house. His booted feet were quiet on the imported Persian rugs as he brushed past brocaded curtains and slowly clambered up the stairs.

"He isn't here," Bente said quietly from the door of her room. Ryder snapped round, lowering the pistol and staring into her sad eyes.

"Do you know where he's gone?" he asked urgently, his green gaze betraying his worry. She sighed.

"I'm afraid not, Mister Ryder," she said. He flinched, turning away. "But we have a storage bunker three miles south of here in Midnight Canyon and I heard the carts head out that direction."

"You know I'm going to kill him, don't you?" Ryder asked her quietly, lifting his head with his burning green eyes. She nodded.

"I have tried to love him because Alvin was so proud at having an heir…but he isn't," she said with dignity, her hands clasped in front of her chest. "He's another man's son who came to us and asked to join our family. He betrayed his kin for his own personal gain and watched his own father gunned down when he came to fetch his son home. He is utterly self-centred and I can see the signs that he is about to do to us what he did to his own blood kin. He came back from the Berserkers much happier and utterly dismissive of my husband. And now…he's kidnapped that poor girl…" There was deep sadness in her voice and he sighed.

"She doesn't deserve his attentions," he admitted.

"Nor Dagur's," Bente told him. "I think it's time she was rescued." He paused and stared at her as she stretched her hand out and dropped a locket into his hand. It was old and heavy with gold. "My husband gave me this-I suspect he had taken it from some unfortunate who couldn't pay him for his wares. Give it to the girl to help her on her way." Quietly he accepted the heavy gold object, his hand closing over the object.

"Aren't you going to call for your men?" he asked her in surprise. She shook her head.

"As far as I am concerned, Mister Ryder, your mission has my blessing," she said and walked back into her room. The door closed with a click to leave him staring at her in utter shock. Then he swiftly checked the other rooms: he was impressed by her dignity and self-possession…but there was no point in being fooled. Once he was sure Astrid wasn't in the house, he sped down and threw himself into the saddle…and then he paused, staring at the wide yellow eyes of Hookfang who was appearing very depressed.

"Oh, c'mon then," he sighed. "Gods, there goes my reputation. Smart-ass sharpshooter to soft-hearted dragon rescuer. Gah! I'll have to shoot a dozen men to get my rep back on track!" Then he kicked Stormfly into the darkening sky and Hookfang followed, purring with happiness….but they didn't get far as Ryder downed them down into the yard behind the hostel and leapt from the Nadder, striding urgently into the building.

Gobber looked up in shock as the tall young man erupted from the kitchen and stared: the saloon was still spotless and neat with well-cooked meals sitting in front of himself, Stoick, Gustav and the twins. The Sheriff stiffened as the auburn-haired shape appeared and he gazed up into he thoughtful face…before Ryder walked forward and stuck his hand out to Gustav.

"Come with me," he said, ignoring everyone else in the room. The boy stared for all of three seconds and then scrambled up with a grin, his hand grasping Ryder's fiercely.

"Where're we going, Ryder?" he asked, his voice filled with trust. A small smile lifting his lips, Ryder's green eyes twinkled.

"To get your sister and get you out of here," he said in a level voice, his hand tightening on Gustav's as they turned back towards the yard. "Are those your warmest clothes?"

"Um…my only clothes, sir," the boy said in an embarrassed voice and Ryder paused then shrugged.

"S'okay-we can see to that," he said reassuringly as they reached the kitchen.

"Wait!" Stoick's voice was hoarse, his eyes fixed on the leant shape that really did bear an uncanny resemblance to his wife's brother. Ryder paused but didn't turn round.

"What is it now?" he asked brusquely.

"We need to talk," the Sheriff told him firmly.

"I thought we already did, Sheriff-and you made your position clear." Ryder's voice was cold. "And I'm in rather a hurry…"

"I…telegraphed Nutjob…and the State Marshals," Stoick found himself saying.

"What do you expect? Applause? A medal? That's your fucking _job,_ Stoick Haddock!" Ryder ground out through his teeth. "As is stopping a young woman being taken hostage over a fabricated debt that has never been proven in any court of law. But I'd hate to interrupt your dinner for anything as trivial as rescuing a young woman from being beaten and raped. I'll handle it."

And then he stalked out, Gustav in tow. The twins shared a look.

"Whoa…that was harsh," Tuffnut muttered as his twin stared at the gobsmacked Sheriff.

"And probably true," she noted. Gobber reached his large hand out and patted the big man on his shoulder.

"He doesnae mean it, Stoick," he murmured. Sighing, the Sheriff turned back to the table.

"Actually, he does," he said roughly. "And what's more, he's right." The twins paused, then shared a glance. As one, they rose from the table and raced into the rapidly darkening yard-to see Stormfly and Hookfang flying away to the south, the smaller shape of Gustav just visible behind Ryder's lean shape on the Nadder. Determinedly, the twins hauled their dozing Zippleback from the rackety stable behind the hearse and sprang onto the twin necks of the two-headed dragon.

"Barf, Belch-follow those dragons!" Tuff called excitedly.

"Yeah-what he said!" Ruff added to encourage her own half of the dragon. With a distinct grumble, the Zippleback jumped into the air and flapped awkwardly up and after the two faster dragons. But the two undertakers knew that where Ryder headed in that sort of mood, work would follow.

oOo

Astrid was struggling with all her might but her hands were roped tightly behind her back and her ankles were tied together also. She had been shocked when Snotlout had burst into the room with four of his men, knocking Bucket senseless and grabbing her. And she had fought because she had hoped and prayed that Ryder would come…but she knew what Snotlout wanted and that he would have even less forbearance than Dagur.

She had been gagged and blindfolded before being slung in the back of a cart and rolled out of town, over rough and bumpy terrain until she was finally dragged out and flung onto a pile of sacks in what appeared to be a fair sized store-house outside town, concealed in a low and narrow valley with sheer red stone walls and the occasional cactus as company. Snotlout had removed her blindfold and gag once she was safely inside and he had almost immediately started trying to kiss and paw her…and she had made her objections clear. This was why there was a still-developing welt on her cheek and why her head ached.

She glanced up and saw the stocky shape bent over a cup, sharing a third bottle of mead with his men and a plate of cold meats and bread. Of course, having kidnapped her and gone to all the trouble to isolate her so he could presumably force her, Snotlout had decided he was hungry and had settled down almost an hour earlier for a snack and a drink. She could only hope that he decided he wanted a sleep before he got down to business with her…because every moment he was otherwise occupied, she was working on her ropes and trying to get free.

But as she just thought she was getting some traction, there was the scrape of a chair on the rough floorboards and the creak as Snotlout rose. He paused to look at his companions.

"Gi's a bit of privacy, guys," he slurred. "A guy's gotta have some time with his lady…"

"I am _not_ your lady," Astrid snapped, struggling more wildly as he relentlessly walked towards her. His blue eyes were dark and hazed with alcohol but the lust and menace in his face was making her want to crawl away. She tried to get off the bed but he grabbed her hair and pressed a ruthless kiss on her face, his other hand roughly feeling her breasts and pulling her bodice open.

"Y'know, rumour has it you and Dagur are at it like rabbits…so you should be pretty willing to take what I can give you, you whore," he growled, his hands rough on her breasts. Desperately, she tried to jerk away, fleeing his lips slobber on her cheek again.

"Get off me!" she shouted, head-butting him. He staggered back, his hand pressed to his face as she tried to scrabble back…and then he punched her, his face ugly with anger. She slid down, breathing hard as he rose above her, flipping her onto her face. Outside, there was the faint screech of a dragon.

"Oh no, my dear Astrid," Snotlout growled, dragging her skirts up and fumbling at his own pants, "I've been waiting for this for a long time…"

oOo

The dragons landed behind a small rocky outcrop less than ten yards from the sturdy storehouse, hidden in the canyons south of town. Ryder presumed it was where Alvin and his Outcasts concealed ordnance that was prohibited by law but which the ruthless gun dealers would sell anyway. He sternly warned Gustav to stay with the dragons…as he heard a cry. Gustav flinched.

"That's Astrid!" the boy said, his face stricken. Ryder laid a hand on his shoulder.

"STAY. HERE!" he ordered firmly and headed for the little storehouse at a crouched run, hearing Astrid's voice.

 _"_ _Get off me!"_

There was a thud and a groan and then the sound of a punch.

 _"_ _Oh no, my dear Astrid,"_ Snotlout's voice growled, slightly muffled. He could hear Astrid breathing hard: hitching, frightened breaths… _"I've been waiting for this for a long time…"_

 _And I've run out of time,_ Ryder realised, reaching the door and kicking it in. The five men sitting at the table look up at his abrupt entry but no one had a chance to move as he fired, emptying the whole cylinder into the five men. The men fell, cut down as they tried to get up and draw on him. The shots were still echoing through the space as he moved forward, running towards the sounds of breathing at the back of the building.

"Get off! Snotlout-please…I-I don't want to…" Astrid's voice was thick with tears and sounded desperate. Stumbling over a roll of ammunition, Ryder arrived in sight of Snotlout and saw him still wrestling with his pants as he pinned the half-naked Astrid down. The words ran a shiver of recognition through him…

 _…_ _please…I don't want to…have-have mercy…_

 _…_ _Heather!…please...let her go!…_

 _…_ _Hiccup…I-I'm sorry…_

He hit Snotlout at waist height, the impact carrying both men sideways in a heap on the floor. Ryder's gun was empty and Snotlout's was in his holster…hanging over a chair in the other part of the storehouse with the corpses of his friends…but as a fist hit his face, Ryder wished he had taken the time to reload. He blocked another punch and scrambled back from the snarling Snotlout. Swiftly, he grabbed the knife from his boot and turned to Astrid, self-consciously dragging her skirts down and starting to saw at the ropes around her wrists. But he had barely started when he heard Snotlout speak.

"You! You're dead!" he hissed. He stuffed the hilt of the knife into her hand.

"Sorry," he hissed then turned to face the other man. Snotlout was running at him and he threw himself forward, grappling with the man. Though he topped Snotlout by half a head, the shorter man was far stockier and-as it soon became apparent-a lot stronger. But Ryder put his entire weight into the struggle, blocking a punch and landing one of his own, before being thrown back by Snotlout. The stocky man gave a nasty grin, his fists balled.

"You're all out and I'm gonna enjoy killing you!" he threatened.

"What-are you planning on boring me to death?" Ryder asked, breathing hard. "You already said that."

"I'm gonna snap you in two!" Snotlout sneered, grabbing a rifle from a stacked case and swinging it like a club. Ducking and dodging, Ryder stumbled back, snatching another rifle and blocking the blow.

"Been said before," he noted, his keen emerald gaze sweeping over the other man. Snotlout was boiling with rage and partly drunk, his eyes slightly hazed and fists clenched. His movements were just slightly sloppy…as Ryder ducked under another swipe and slammed the butt of the rifle against his side. Exhaling with a loud _oof_ , Snotlout staggered back, his rifle swinging round and catching Ryder a glancing blow across the cheek. His head snapped round and he stumbled as well-as Snotlout threw himself onto him again, his fist slamming into Ryder's face. Arching his back, the gunslinger threw him off and scrambled away, reaching for his gun, which had been kicked aside. His hand made the grip and he was turning and reaching for a bullet from his belt as he heard a sickening click.

He looked up: Snotlout had grabbed a bullet and jammed it into the rifle in his hand, the butt hugged to his shoulder and the muzzle pointing at his head. Breathing hard, he stared up, his gun still empty.

"I said I'd kill you," Snotlout said…and then jerked, his eyes widening. The rifle dropped and Ryder slammed the bullet into the chamber, spinning the cylinder and firing with the same motion. The report was loud in the storehouse as the bullet impacted straight between Snotlout's shocked blue eyes. And then he fell.

Astrid was still standing with her hand extended from where she had thrown the knife hard into his back. Her bodice was pulled closed though still torn and her hair was dishevelled, bruising still developing on her stern face. But her azure eyes were blazing and she was breathing hard.

"I. SAID. NO!" she snarled at the crumpled shape. Ryder lowered his pistol and pointedly holstered it, then rose to his feet, professionally checking Snotlout was dead before moving towards her.

"I'm sorry," he said gently, stopping a foot shy of her trembling form. "I am so sorry, Astrid. I never thought he…he would…" She shook her head urgently, suddenly staring at the floor.

"No, no-you came…as you said you would…" she said softly, her voice hitching. Her eyes were shimmering with tears. He paused…then gently lifted a hand to her bruised face, feeling tears on her skin.

"Astrid…" he said gently, stroking her face. "This can't go on…" She shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks. Impulsively, he wrapped his arms around her and she leaned against him, head burying in his chest, her sobbing breaths shaking through her. He hugged her tightly, feeling her snuggle harder into his lean shape, resting his head against hers protectively. "I have a plan," he whispered.

She sniffed. "Really?" she murmured. "I-I hope it's better than this one…" He gave a small chuckle.

"I knew you had my back," he whispered gently. She sniffed again and swiped her nose with the back of her head.

"Looked like you needed it," she said hoarsely. He kissed the top of her head.

"And you certainly had Snotlout's," he smiled, seeing the knife sticking out of it, the blade buried deep in his body. It was the knife he took from Eret and he nodded. "Where did you learn to throw like that?" She lifted her face, her hands still trembling against his chest. She managed a small smile.

"My father didn't want me to be vulnerable and helpless," she admitted quietly. "I-I guess he never figured on Dagur…"

"And Dagur never figured on me," he murmured gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and steering her to the door. Suddenly, all the fight oozed from her as they emerged into the moonlit night. She shook her head.

"I have to go back," she whsipered, beginning to tremble. "Gustav…"

"Sis!" The boy broke cover and sprinted towards them and Astrid pulled away, her eyes wide and face suddenly filled with joy.

"GUSTAV!" she exclaimed as he hit her, the siblings clutching together in a relieved and ferocious embrace. Ryder stood back for a long moment, a smile of relief on his lips. Then he nodded as they looked up.

"You're not going back," he said and whistled. Stormfly and Hookfang emerged and the girl's face lit with delight at the sight of the beautiful Nadder, saddled and ready to fly. The young Monstrous Nightmare ambled along happily and nudged Gustav, who grinned. Suppressing the wince he felt, he fished out the roll of notes from inside his vest and pushed it into her hands. "Here's some money," he said determinedly. "It's enough to live on for a while. Take Stormfly…and Hookfang. I get the impression he kinda likes your brother and he's a good dragon, just a bit naughty…which I guess Gustav knows _all_ about…" The boy gave his cheeky smile and embraced the dragon as Astrid looked up into Ryder's face.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked him in a concerned voice. He shook his head.

"There's one more person I gotta get out of there," he told her softly. "Look-you need to go. Please-get outta here."

"But I…"

"Haven't you got anywhere to go?" he asked her, suddenly exasperated. He would have been planning his escape every minute of every day…but maybe she had completely given up, even on that? She stroked Stormfly and looked at Gustav…then nodded.

"Gothi," she murmured. "Raven Point Butte. She'll look after us for a couple of days until we can decide where to head for." He nodded.

"Then GO!" he urged her. She nodded, helping Gustav up onto Hookfang-who purred-before turning to Stormfly. The Nadder gave a gentle croak…and then she ran back to Ryder, grabbing his face and pressing a firm kiss on his lips.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For everything!" He stared into her eyes, suddenly lost in the azure depths, his own emerald gaze almost blinding in its intensity.

"You owe me two now," he murmured. She gave a small smile.

"When can I pay you back?" she asked and he gave her his lopsided grin.

"Maybe one day, Milady," he murmured, watching her mount up and fly off into the moonlit sky, Hookfang and Gustav unsteadily flapping after her. Finally he turned to the rocky outcrop the twins were unsuccessfully hiding behind and beckoned. "You can come out now!" he called.

"Dude-that was awesome!" Tuff called.

"Have you got Snotlout measured up?" Ryder asked Ruff and saw her confident smile.

"His coffin is already made," she said. "The moment the ass crossed you, we knew he was a dead man!"

"There are five of his men dead in there as well-but I want Snotlout delivered as is to the family," Ryder told them. "The knife is to stay where it is-it is a message."

"Which family?" Tuff asked. "Rumour has it he was planning to jump to the Berserkers…"

"At the moment the Outcasts still think he's one of them…and they're the one who will pay for his funeral," Ryder told them flatly. "And for the Gods sake, don't give anyone a clue you knew what really happened…because not even you two could duck that one."

"I wouldn't bet on it…but we get the point," Ruff said and followed her brother into the storehouse. there was a shout of "AWESOME!" and the thud of two heads colliding as the twins almost knocked themselves out head-butting each other. Shaking his head, Ryder brushed himself downed began the walk back to Berk…

It was very late when he arrived back at at the Berserker Compound and men were patrolling the yards when he sneaked back in. Dagur tended to leave orders to keep a close eye on the dragons-especially his precious Night Fury, so Ryder would need to decide exactly when to free Toothless and leave Berk. Probably shortly before dawn, because the guards usually fell asleep and the brothers were never early risers. And it would have to be before they returned from the auctions and Astrid's absence was noted. Thoughtfully, he clambered up the adobe walls and window-sills to his room and slid in, softly pulling the shutters closed.

The click of a gun had him freezing and a hand snatched the pistol from his holster before he could react. The lamp by the door was lit and Dagur looked up from where he was lying on Ryder's bed, his hands laced behind his head. Both his brothers and Eret were there, stationed in the corners of the room with weapons trained on the auburn-haired gunslinger as he slowly raised his hands.

"It's a cold night," Dagur said mildly, his pale green gaze trained on the still figure before him. "Two of the Gronkles sprained their wings so we had to turn back. When we arrived, Bucket and been attacked and Astrid and the Nadder were missing. You were seen climbing into her room about the time she vanished and you arrive back so late on foot. So what do you know about her disappearance?" He sat up and glared at the prisoner, his gun in his hand. "Tell me what you know."


	16. Dagur's Displeasure

**Sixteen: Dagur's Displeasure**

Vorg was cackling as he crumpled to the floor for the seventh time, a strong pair of hands grabbing his shoulders and wrenching him back onto increasingly unsteady legs. A couple of shots crunched into his already battered shape and he blocked a couple more powerful blows, then landed a punch on Ulric's face…but Eret fisted his hair, hauling him back and slamming his fists into Ryder's abused back. Before he could even gasp again, he was spun and punched ferociously to land across the sturdy table to the side of the vacant stable. Dagur instantly leaned across him, his forearm digging hard into Ryder's throat and crushing his windpipe.

"You're being very stubborn!" Dagur sneered at him, leaning so close his breath was ghosting over Ryder's bloody face.

"What c'I say…?" he mumbled thickly. "I don'like…way…talkin' t'me…"

Dagur hammered his fist into his side and he gave a low moan.

"Not…encouragin' me t'talk…" he gasped. Dagur took a step back-as Eret grabbed him again and crashed his fist into his face once more. He stumbled back but miraculously remained standing, then threw himself at the large trapper, his fists cracking into the man's smug face. He probably didn't do much damage but it felt like a major triumph to see blood smeared on his smarmy face. The piledriver in the chest it earned him was incidental though he made friends with the floor once more…until he was dragged up again by three of the men who decided it was their turn…

And so it went on. Dagur was getting more and more frustrated, screaming the questions at him as Vorg cackled at his pain and Eret brutally orchestrated the beating. But as Ryder hit the ground over and over, his face swollen with welts, one eye already closed and blood trickling from cuts over his cheeks, all he could see was a clear pair of azure eyes, staring into his with warmth and gratitude. Dagur wanted Astrid back…and Ryder knew where she was. If he would only share that knowledge, he would be freed…

"In a few days, you'll be back in shape and you can leave," Savage offered seductively.

 _While betraying her would condemn the young woman to repeated rape and abuse by the deranged Dagur…until he finally wearied of her and killed her,_ Ryder realised. _Gustav would certainly be killed as a lesson to her…so why should he condemn someone else to the pain and horror his wife died of? The price was unthinkable…_

 _…_ _and he's never going to let you live anyway. Your only value is if you continue to provide him with a challenge, with amusement…_

He staggered up once more, managing to catch Vorg across the face and shut the cackling up for a few seconds. The punches it earned him had him curled on the floor, kicks slamming into his broken ribs, a hand hauled up and burned cruelly by the man's cigar-butt. Bucket gave a slow grin and smashed his boot onto Ryder's other hand. He could _hear_ the crunch of bones and gave a soundless cry…but in truth, he was almost done. The room was fading and sounds growing distant around him as he felt the tension ooze from his broken shape.

"Enough!" Dagur said suddenly "Wait until he comes round. This way he hardly feels it!" Bucket finished grinding his heel into Ryder's broken hand, causing a few tears to leak over his beaten face and then he heard the sounds of the men finally leaving, the door closing and bolts slamming home.

Shuddering and in a pool of blood and agony, he blearily glanced up. _Everything hurt._ There was no Red here to leap in with a roar and save him, no friends to sue for his release, no one… Ryder was on his own, abandoned to his fate with only himself to rely on. And he knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn't survive another round with Dagur and his men…

oOo

Alvin stared down at the shape lain with reverence on his dining room table. Bente had not raised a single objection, silently watching the body of their adopted son returned to them by the twins. Crazy and unfathomable, they had been suitably solemn as they delivered the boy home and had agreed to collect the body the following day for a funeral.

He turned the knife over in his hands. The Deathsong Amber was so rare that this could only be a Trapper weapon…and he knew which, for he had seen the man throwing his weight around the town. This was Eret's personal weapon…buried in his son's body. And that meant the Trappers and Dagur were responsible for his heir's death.

He turned to the door, fastening his pistol on and whistling for his dragon. He swiftly divided the men up-half to guard his wife and compound, the others to come with him…saving the missing five that the twins had promised to bring back later that day. He didn't care that it was daylight: he knew his dragon could fly in daylight if necessary… Bente moved close to him and took his hand.

"I wish you wouldn't go," she murmured. "I don't feel safe, Alvin."

"The men will care for you…and when I return, we'll bury my son and finish those damned Trappers. Dagur has gone too far this time!"

"Alvin…please-I would like to get away from here," Bente murmured softly. Alvin stared into her face and scowled.

"When I return with my brother, my love, we will have enough men to escort you down to Silvertree and the lodge. You'll be safe there." She nodded in acquiescence, watching him swing into the saddle on his Whispering Death and signal to his men. "I'll be back by sunset, my love," he said and vanished from Berk.

oOo

It was late afternoon when Ryder regained consciousness and he regretted it instantly as the pain hit him like a hammer. Biting on his lip and trying not to cringe-because even that hurt-he tried to calm his breathing and focus on his surroundings. With a slight groan, he lifted his head, his vision spinning as his bleary emerald gaze swept over the inside of the stable.

The high windows leaked dusty golden late afternoon light into the cold space, motes of dust swirling gently. The stable was technically empty but there were some crates and barrels lodged in the space, barrels perched precariously over the door and over-packed on creaking and sagging makeshift shelves. Wincing, Ryder dragged his battered shape along the floor, his legs too shaky to support him, but he was determined to get out and away-because he had a promise to keep. Hauling himself up, he inspected the barrels and shuddered: they contained what could be best described as 'dragon parts', preserved in alcohol and some hides, rolled in oil to keep them supple. He frowned and forced himself up to his knees, the shredded arms of his green shirt flapping around his bruised arms and he determinedly ripped a few strips to wrap around his broken hand, grimacing as he looked at the damage. It was his left hand, his gun hand…and without that, he was very vulnerable.

He craned his neck up. The barrels on the shelves were _very_ precariously stacked and in truth, this wasn't a great choice of cell for the clever outsider-but Dagur had just wanted a suitable space quickly where he could beat the crap out of him. And he'd got what he wanted…but Ryder needed to make the most of his opportunity, before Dagur got bored and came back to try to beat the information he needed out of Ryder. Ryder shivered: he was certain that would kill him…because he wasn't talking. _Ever._

Painfully, he hauled himself to the nearest stack of crates then unfastened a rope from around the nearest crate and gave it a hard tug to check its strength. Nodding, he looked up again at the lopsided supports for the shelf then braced his legs. His right arm flailed up and he grabbed the wall, pulling his lean shape up, trembling, to loop the rope around the strut and secure it tightly, then slid back to his heels and flopped forward. He stared up at the strut and saw the barrels shift slightly with even the gentle pressure he had applied. Tossing the end of the rope behind the crate, he dragged himself to hide there as well, curling up painfully and waiting for his chance. Because, Gods knew, he would get only one…

 _…_ _he must have slipped into a pained doze because he found himself back on the farm, his floppy hat shielding his auburn-haired head and fair skin from the hot summer sun, the Gronckles rumbling happily as they munched through the rocks strewn through the poor land that would form his main arable field. He lowered his hoe and paused to wipe his brow, seeing the pink sunburn on his forearms._

 _"_ _You're really not designed for the sun, my love," Heather said, her grey-green eyes smiling as she handed him a mug of home-made lemonade. He thirstily downed the drink, smiling in gratitude._

 _"_ _I can hardly plough at night, Milady," he reminded her with a grin._

 _"_ _Why not?" she asked him, snuggling closer. He kissed her softly._

 _"_ _Because I have far more fun things planned for tonight, my love," he murmured in her ear and she laughed, kissing him back. His arms closed around her lithe shape, feeling her press amorously against her husband, her eyes promising a very willing participant in whatever fun he had planned…_

 _"_ _Excuse us," a strange voice called and the young couple looked up to meet a stubbly, jowly face. The man was mounted on a Nadder and his four companions all rode a variety of dragons. He walked forward, an amiable smile on his face and his wife's hand still twined with his._

 _"_ _Can I help you?" he asked softly, seeing five heavily armed and rough-looking men. The leader shared a look with his four friends as their eyes fell on Heather._

 _"_ _I think she can," he said menacingly. "We've been on the road for weeks and the dragons are being elusive so we're behind our quota. We've been in camps, just the five of us with no companions and, to be frank, we're all really horny. And what we really need, is a good night with a whore…"_

 _As his eyes fell on Heather and the men dismounted, advancing towards the young couple, the nightmare unfolded as it had every time since the horrific day, the fractured images replaying unceasingly until he heard the shot that ended her life, saw the others ride off with his herd, smelled the smoke and felt the heat as they fired his humble farm…and the leader rose over him to finish off the final witness, sadistically left alive to watch the destruction of everything he held dear…until now…_

 _…_ _lying in the dirt, beaten and broken, eyes flicking to where she lay, still. The clunk of the cylinder moving and the click of the hammer cocking. The steady hand pointing the gun at his helpless shape…_

 _…_ _waiting to join her…_

 _…_ _and then the roar, ferocious and accompanied by the flare of flames as the dragon closed…shots and shouts and finally screams…and then the pad of approaching paws, signalling the end…_

 _…_ _but instead, the flames died and a brown and black Monstrous Nightmare with brilliant red wings ambled forward, sniffing first at her and then at him…pupils dilating and a small croon of pity vibrating in the long neck…the warm, scaly face pressing into his bloody hand…the dragon scooping him up and taking him away from there, saving his life that day…_

 _…_ _and then he felt her, felt her hand trail gently over his bruised and bloody cheek, felt the soft caress of her breath on his face as he cracked open his bleary eyes. A shaking hand rose to trail his bloody fingers through her silky jet hair. She smiled down on him._

 _"_ _It's okay, Hiccup," Heather told him gently. "You did all anyone could. Evil men do as they do and good men stand up against them. You can only try."_

 _"_ _But I was too weak. Too useless!" he protested, his voice cracking with despair and guilt. "I let them rape you, kill you…"_

 _"_ _My love, you fought five men for me," she reassured him. "What could you do, unarmed against so many? They almost killed you and I felt my heart break that you suffered so much for me. I never blamed you. I blamed them for what they chose to do to two young people who were just farming a poor and rocky patch of land, who had so little but they took it anyway. And for five years you gave up your life and hunted them…and finally, you found them and have avenged me and I know you will always love me…and I will always love you. But there is another out there who needs your love as well. You have to live, not exist. So live for me, Hiccup."_

 _"_ _I-I don't know how…" he whispered painfully._

 _"_ _Let her show you," she murmured. "Let him. This isn't the end, my love. Now get up…they're coming…"_

His eyes snapped open as steps approached the door and the sounds of the bolts being slammed back echoed in the room. The sun had set and the sky was rapidly darkening, the last purple and orange light visible through the small skylights. And then the door opened and four men walked in.

 _Boy, they must think I'm about to jump them,_ Ryder thought ironically. _Four? I couldn't even take Gustav at the moment._

"Where is he?" Eiric growled.

"He must be asleep," Ingmar said cruelly. "Let's wake him up." Bucket pulled the door closed behind them and stepped forward, his huge fists balled…

…and then Ryder put all his weight and remaining strength into hauling on the rope, ripping the strut away from the wall. There was enough of a creak to alert the men…but not give them enough time to move as the shelf collapsed and the heavy barrels smashed onto heads and bodies, dragon parts and alcohol and oil mingling with blood as the sounds died away. Ryder determinedly dragged his body forward, scrabbling over wreckage and bodies, hauling his beaten shape through oil and alcohol and blood. Grimly, he crawled through the doorway, pausing only to grab a bunch of keys before he managed to huddle behind the water butt as more men and Dagur ran to the door.

"What was that crash?" the Berserker shouted. He hauled the door open and swore as he peered inside-then darted into the stable, stumbling over the bodies of his men. His brothers and two more men leapt in…and Ryder pulled himself upright.

"FIND HIM!" Savage shouted as the prisoner patted himself down…and found, as expected, a match in his vest, scratched it alight on the adobe walls…and tossed it into the gaping doorway. A wall of flames exploded up, trapping the Berserkers as Ryder began to drag himself across the short distance from the stable to the cage containing a sleek black shape with wide green eyes. He winced as he arrived at the Night Fury's cage and offered his hand.

"Hey, bud," he murmured. "I think it's time to go…" He relaxed a fraction as the warm muzzle pushed into his hand and for a moment, he just lay there, then forced himself up to his knees, sagging as he turned the key in the lock and pulled the bolt back as well. The door opened a fraction…as a huge hand grabbed his hair and tossed him a brutal few yards to slam to the floor. Eret crashed his boot into Ryder's gut, again and again, then grabbed the man by the throat and held him up, staring into hazy green eyes.

"I knew you were trouble!" the Trapper sneered and punched him again. "And Dagur won't be unhappy if I beat the truth out of you. Where is she?"

"You…killed…my…father…" Ryder choked, his hands rising to grip the arms. Eret laughed in his face.

"You know, that isn't the answer I was looking for…"

"It's…the truth…" Ryder rasped, aware of the sounds of a fire and the screams and shout from behind him. "Nine…years ago… farm…stole herd… _you_ …sold them here…" He blinked. "Recognised you…when you helped…kill the soldiers…" Eret gaped.

"You saw?" he hissed, throwing Ryder to the ground and kicking him again. "I should kill you where you lie…"

And Ryder began to laugh, a painful wheezing sound. Eret just stared at him. "WHAT is so funny? I'm about to beat you death, to cause you unimaginable pain…and you're laughing at me?"

"The answer…is yes…" Ryder coughed, a hand rising to support his agonising broken ribs. Eret kicked him again and he hissed in pain.

"What?" Eret gaped.

"You asked…if I had ever…trained wild dragon…" Ryder wheezed, rocking his head to stare at the Night Fury. His pained green gaze flicked back to Eret. "The answer's yes. I trained…him…" And the door of the cage swung open as the black dragon butted it away with his head. Eret's eyes widened in shock and his mouth worked. He backed away, waving his hands in front of him.

"Good boy!" he babbled. "Good dragon. Now go back in the cage…back! GET BACK! Or I'll…"

"Bud," Ryder murmured to the dragon, standing protectively between his battered shape and the Trapper, "kill him!" Toothless sniffed at his friend, smelling blood and broken bones, his senses revealing the severity of the injuries…and smelling the man before him on those injuries. He lowered his head, his pupils constricting as his maw opened, his throat filling with purple plasma. Eyes popping, Eret reached for his gun…as Toothless fired, the impact at close range blasting the man halfway across the yard. He landed in a heap, half his chest blasted away as Toothless turned back and nudged the battered gunslinger gently.

"I think…I need your help to get out of here," he murmured painfully as the dragon laid down by him, allowing the man to literally crawl across its shoulders and neck before carefully rising and starting to scamper to the gates. "I need you to fly out," Ryder murmured, wrapping his arms as well as he could round the neck but Toothless crooned and sadly lifted his tail, showing the missing left fin…clearly ripped away during his capture. "Oh bud…I'm sorry…" the man murmured, defeat suddenly taking all the fight from him. He rested his head on the dragon's neck and a shudder of despair ran though him. "I'm sorry…" he groaned.

But Toothless wasn't giving up, because his human friend needed him, so he bunched his muscles and bounded up, landing first on the nearest cage, then on the guttering of a low storeroom and finally up on the perimeter wall…before spreading his wings and gliding to the plaza, landing heavily to his left. Ryder groaned and the dragon irritably shook his head, then looked back at his passenger.

"Not sure…that's gonna work, bud…" he murmured. "We ain't flying out of here…" He lifted his head in the gloomy plaza. "In there…" And he gestured towards the hostel. With a reluctant warble and a vary wary sniff, the dragon shook himself out and they vanished into the yard.


	17. Fugitive

**Seventeen: Fugitive**

The battered fugitive and the escaped Night Fury had barely vanished through the gates into the hostel yard when Dagur and his men erupted from the Berserker compound, lightly singed and very sooty, the flames of the burning stable-and adjacent storeroom-lighting the plaza. Dagur was almost foaming at the mouth in his rage.

"FIND HIM!" he roared. "I want him back alive. Search every stable and storehouse! Search the Archives and the Library! Look in every house! If anyone is shielding him, shoot them and burn their house to the ground!" His men scattered as he led his brothers and half a dozen men into the hostel…

Ryder had managed to haul himself to his knees on the Night Fury's shoulders, clawing his way up the wall until he could squint through the half-light at the side of the saloon. He angled his head slightly so the eye that wasn't closed by swelling could see inside the saloon and spy…

…Gobber being punched and thrown from brother to brother, his face battered and dazed while Stoick was restrained by three other men at gunpoint.

"WHERE IS HE?" Dagur screamed as Gobber stumbled and was hauled up by Savage and Vorg and slammed against the bar.

"I dinnae know whut ye mean?" Gobber gasped as the barrel of a Winchester rifle was pressed hard across his throat.

"Ryder!" Dagur sneered, his eyes furious. "That snide bastard helped Astrid escape and won't tell me where she is!"

"Good fer the laddie," Gobber mumbled, remembering how the young gunslinger had abruptly come into the saloon, grabbed Gustav and left. How he had chastised them for doing nothing and warned he would do it all himself…which he clearly had…

"And now he's escaped. I want him back! _Where is he?"_ Dagur screamed. Gobber chuckled.

"Not here," he muttered. "Laddie's too smart tae come here!"

"Look, we know he comes here all the time," Savage pointed out coldly. "You are his _only_ friend. In fact you, the Dragon Master and the Sheriff are the only people he has spoken to. Just tell us where he is!"

"I don't know!" Gobber sneered as Hakon raced down the stairs from the first floor.

"He's not here!" he reported.

"What…what did I tell ye?" Gobber asked smugly, earning himself another punch.

"You're the right friend for that stinking traitor!" Vorg snapped, punching the old blacksmith.

"Get out of here…!" Stoick growled, wincing at his friend's grunt of pain.

"Or what?" Dagur taunted him, turning on the big man. "No one actually cares what you think, Stoick!" Suddenly, the Sheriff moved, slamming the men holding him aside and grabbing Dagur by the throat.

"Do you care now?" he growled as the Berserker turned purple and choked. Gobber threw himself on Savage and the older brother fell to the floor as Vorg grabbed a chair and smashed it over the Sheriff's head, stunning him. Dagur scrabbled away, furious but he satisfied himself with a hefty kick to the man's head, rendering him unconscious then beckoned his men away. "If I find him here, you are all dead!" he snarled and stormed out, leaving the two men on the floor. Bruised and breathless, Gobber crawled to his unconscious friend and checked he was still alive…and found, in fact, that he was already stirring, though he would have one mother of a headache. _Stoick always had a thick skull,_ he thought wryly. Then he stared at the wreckage of his bar and the smashed chair.

"They would have to ruin me best chair," he sighed. "Laddie, where'er ye are-ne'er come back here! Dagur will ne'er give up!"

oOo

The twins ducked into their yard and peered over the fence to see Berserker men racing in and out of the houses and businesses on the plaza, crashes showing that their searches were anything but civilised. Fishlegs clung to his most precious artefacts as they men swept through, turning shelves over just for the Hel of it, before shoving him aside and leaving. The Sheriff's office was dark and empty but the Berserkers still broke in, checked the place for the escaped Ryder then swept out again. Shaking their heads, the undertakers sighed and headed back to their little office…

"Ruff! Tuff!"

Both froze at the hoarse voice and they saw the lid of one of the coffins slowly lift up.

"AAAGH! I _told_ you people calling 'let me out' weren't dead!" Ruff yelled.

"But that one has three holes in his chest! And he was stiff! How can he be moving?"

"Olaf-that isn't you, is it?"

"No, it's _me!"_ Ryder hissed, lifting the lid of the coffin up just enough to allow the twins to recognise him. Both gave huge sighs of relief, hands pressed over their hearts.

"Dude-that _isn't_ funny!" he scolded the fugitive.

"Unless _we_ do it," his sister pointed out.

"Okay, I grant you that but that took like eighty years off my life!"

"That means you must already be dead!"

"Not necessarily…"

"Tuff-are you seriously telling me you're gonna make a hundred and two?" his twin asked him.

"Well, _you_ won't!" Tuff retorted.

"Then you won't either. We're twins!"

"AARGH! Will I never be free of you, woman?"

Toothless had decided that this had gone on long enough and emerged from behind the hearse, growling.

"Um…Ryder-is that a Night Fury?" Ruff asked carefully, taking a pace closer to the Gronckles already hooked up to the cart.

"No, it's a fat and very muddy Terrible Terror!" Ryder hissed painfully. Toothless growled and he sighed. "Sorry, bud-didn't mean it…"

"Wait-is that a Terrible Terror?" Tuff asked, confused.

"Get me out of here!" Ryder asked roughly, feeling dizzy. "Dagur and his gang are looking for me and if they find me, they'll kill me…"

"They'll kill us if they find you with us…" Ruff pointed out gently. There was a sigh. "Hey, I don't wanna live to a hundred and two with this mutton-head for a brother so it's no sweat. And I know where we can take you…the one place Dagur would never think to go…"

"Why can't you just fly out on the Terrible Terror?" Tuff asked.

"He's got a damaged tail. Can't fly…" Ryder groaned.

"Only you could manage to steal a broken dragon," Ruff commented as she clicked her teeth and the Gronckles slowly began to move forward.

"Well, I stole a broken me, so just being consistent…" Ryder mumbled thickly. Toothless gave a little croon and walked quietly alongside the cart, ghosting between the cart and the darkened buildings, shielded from the now-dark plaza. But they had only got as far as the Outcast Compound when there was the roar of a dragon and Ryder inched the lid up.

"Stop!" he hissed, digging his elbow into the wood beneath him and peering through the gap. The Berserkers and Trappers had deployed a pair of Monstrous Nightmares and Alvin's house was on fire.

"Hand over Ryder!" Dagur shouted from the back of his Skrill, lightning arching across to the house. His brothers were standing by his side and all their men were lined up, all armed with loaded pistols and rifles.

"He isn't here!" a frantic voice called from within the burning house..

"Excuse me but I wanna here that from Al!" Dagur sneered.

"He isn't here!" the voice shouted. "He and the wife went to her family home just before sunset with most of the men and stock. There's only a few of us here."

"Then hand over that damned Ryder and I'll let you live!" Dagur bellowed at them.

"HE ISN'T HERE!" the man shouted frantically. "I haven't seen him…"

"No Ryder, no deal!" Dagur sneered. "Kill them all!"

"WAIT!" the voice screamed. "Alvin has called his brother! Don't do this because he'll declare blood feud…!"

"And again, why should I care?" the Berserker sneered. There was a pause.

"He is Darkheart the Deathbringer," the voice pleaded. "Please…let us go!"

"The Bandit?" Dagur scoffed. "Preposterous! Burn them out!" And as the Monstrous Nightmares poured flames onto the house, there were screams of surrender and the Outcast men began running out, waving their hands in the air. They were ruthlessly cut down as Ruff flicked the reins and the Gronckles resumed their weary trudge down the side of the plaza. But Dagur spun on his dragon at the sound of the cart and the Skrill stomped over. "STOP!" he snapped. The twins looked up and Ruff tugged on the reins as the Gronckles grumbled, as if to say _Make up your minds!_

"What're you doing out here?" the Berserker demanded suspiciously. The undertakers looked bored.

"Uh, dude-hearse loaded with coffins? Registered undertakers? You can have three guesses!" Tuff offered as Dagur rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"I mean now?" he snapped.

"Hey-do we tell you when to go auctioning dragons or berserking or anything?" Ruff asked him pointedly. "Last few days have got us overrun and we need to clear these guys out before they start getting smelly!" Dagur stared at her in shock: no matter how scary or deranged he appeared, the twins never gave him any more respect than they did anyone else-i.e. none whatsoever-and he was still shaking his head as he leaned forward and kicked the lid off the nearest coffin.

A very dead Outcast stared up at him with blank staring eyes. Dagur shuddered. "Bleurgh!" he said and recoiled. "He looks like he was already buried and dug up! Get outta here!" The twins shared a glance and flicked the Gronckles on before he could change his mind. Toothless deftly remained behind the cart and out of sight as they accelerated to a respectable trot out of town.

"Don't worry," Ruff said. "We know exactly where to take you."

oOo

He awoke in pain, completely disorientated and wondering if death really wasn't that much worse than what he'd been through. The trip from the town had been agony, the cart jolting and bouncing on the so-called roads and up through the mountains to the east of town until he had finally succumbed to the pain. He had no idea where the twins had taken him but as he gradually clawed at his consciousness, he realised that he was lying on several folded blankets on a very hard and uneven rocky floor with another neatly tucked around him and a further small blanket folded under his head. He could hear that a fire was crackling to his left, the smell of woodsmoke discernible. The air felt cold and vaguely damp as he tried to open his eyes and he unwillingly gave a low groan.

"Hold still, I'm coming," a familiar voice said and he moved his head slightly towards the sounds of steps approaching, seeing a silhouette emerge from the shadows and resolve into the familiar blonde shape of Astrid. His eye widened as he realised there was a bandage over his swollen left eye. He whimpered and she dropped to her knees by him, gently sliding a hand beneath his head and lifting a cup to his lips, dribbling cool water into his mouth. He drank thirstily, still completely disorientated.

"How…are you here?" he mumbled thickly, his swollen face making speech difficult. She smiled gently, carefully lowering him onto the makeshift pillow and stroking the blood-matted auburn hair off his face.

"Ruff and Tuff sent to Gothi for help once they had dropped you here," she explained, sitting back on her heels by his side and looking down on his battered shape. "What happened?" He tried to shrug his shoulders but regretted it instantly.

"Dagur was waiting," he said quietly. "He seemed to think I may have had something to do with your disappearance." She gasped and her eyes suddenly flashed with guilt but he twisted and grabbed her wrist with his right hand, staring up into her face. "It's _not_ your fault," he told her urgently. "I chose to go back…to release…" He suddenly flinched, a look of panic filling his green gaze. "Toothless!" His head snapped round and he stared into the darkness…to a reassuring warble. The blunt-muzzled head appeared from the gloom behind him and the big green eyes were worried as he nuzzled against the battered shape. Ryder gave a whimper of pain and twisted to rub the scaly face. "Whoa-easy, bud!" he groaned. "Been a little tenderised here…"

"I think it may have been more than that," Astrid said quietly. "Gothi was very worried about you…at least, I think she was…" He frowned. "Um…she doesn't speak…" she explained. He sighed as the Night Fury laid down at his side, leeching warmth into him and he laid a hand on the smooth head, feeling reassured at the vibration of purring through his gentle touch.

"Are you okay?' he said roughly, inspecting her face and seeing the bruises from Snotlout's attack.

"I look a million times better than you," she reminded him and he rolled his eyes. "I'm fine…thanks to you," she added shyly, her azure gaze inspecting his battered face and frowning, a finger dropping to gently trace along a pale scar below the right end of his lower lip. He gently caught her hand. "Was that…?" she murmured. He shook his head slightly.

"Had that as long as I remember…even when I was a really young kid," he admitted. "Why is my eye bandaged up?" Astrid stroked her fingers through his auburn hair again and he gave a small sigh: it felt comforting.

"Gothi says you have a lot of bruising and there is a break in the bone of the eye socket," she told him gently. "Um…and broken ribs. And your left hand is broken."

"Hadn't guessed that," he murmured and her eyes cooled a little. He sighed. "Sorry…I'm a sarcastic bastard…always have been. But…how are you here? I mean, I thought you were going away…"

"I was staying with Gothi when the twins arrived," she revealed. "And though I wasn't needed to bring her here, I wanted to see you were okay…"

 _"_ _You have to live, not exist. So live for me, Hiccup."_

 _"_ _I-I don't know how…"_

 _"_ _Let her show you."_

"I-I'm glad you came," he admitted softly, his emerald gaze staring up into her face. "I…you…er…is Gustav okay?" He almost face-palmed at his clumsiness and he thought he saw her look disappointed.

"Yeah, he's back at the sanctuary," she told him briskly. "I'm not sure giving him that dragon was the wisest move…" He sighed.

"Yeah, over-active twelve year old and really powerful dragon," he admitted with a small apologetic smile. "It'll be a miracle if he doesn't set the house on fire!" She gave a small smile and he felt a little frisson of relief. "I-I just wanted…to give him something that could protect him…and make sure Hookfang got a good home, rather than that idiot Snotlout!" She shuddered and he cringed, unconsciously grabbing her hand with his mashed left hand. He grimaced in pain. "I'm sorry…" he groaned and her blue gaze flicked up to meet his pained expression. "I-I didn't mean…" She gently rested her hand on his and stared into his battered face.

"You're kind of out of practice in _talking_ to anyone aren't you?" she guessed with a small smile. He swallowed, still unnerved that she hadn't walked off or slapped him yet. _Boy, I must look AMAZINGLY pathetic,_ he guessed.

"Guilty as charged," he croaked. "Um, well not since…" He closed his eyes, sighing…and almost flinched as a gentle hand stroked his hair again.

"Heather," she guessed and he nodded, still breathing deeply, opening his eyes, staring up into her sympathetic face.

"Five years," he managed, fighting against the pain. For all that time, he had clung to his hatred and anger as shields against the pain and the reality of what had happened…but those responsible were finally gone and lying here, beaten as badly as he had been on that horrific day with a beautiful woman stroking his head was breaking his last barriers. She gave a soft smile and gently stroked his bruised cheek. She heard the vulnerability in his voice, something the dry and sarcastic gunslinger had never revealed before. The times when he had come to her aid, when his warm, strong arms had wrapped comfortingly around her kept recycling in her memory, sending a warm feeling in her chest. And seeing him lying here, so badly hurt for his actions in saving her from Dagur and Snotlout, made her _really_ want to know what had befallen this surprisingly young man to make him as he was.

"Tell me," she murmured, her expression encouraging. "If-if you want to, I mean…"

And he did. For so long, all he had was revenge and loss and suddenly, this beautiful and brave young woman was offering him something more than the strained tolerance and suspicion he was used to experiencing. In his heart, he so desperately wanted to explain, wanted her to understand…and maybe more. And though he still felt grief and sorrow at what had happened, he now knew that Heather wouldn't want him to remain locked in his grief forever. And this was maybe his only chance to explain to Astrid. He swallowed and began to speak, curiously ashamed at his tale, at the disaster that had befallen them.

"The t-trappers stopped at our farm, by ill-fortune, I think…but they-they attacked us for my wife. I-I tried to stop them but they beat me to a bloody pulp. I-I just couldn't stop five armed men! H-Heather was r-raped…" He stopped and swallowed, shaking. Astrid's eyes widened, recalling and understanding his rage at her own experiences and she gently stroked his hand. He took a shuddering breath. "She was r-raped…by all of them…and when they had d-done…they s-shot her. They m-murdered my w-wife then they stole our h-herd, b-burnt the f-farm and then, f-finally, I was about to be killed…when Red saved me." Her face folded in horror and sorrow while he shook as he relived the ordeal and then she wrapped her arms round him. Despite his pain, he buried his face in her neck and his arms hugged her to him, shaking with grief: despite her concern for his injuries, she squeezed him tightly, stroking his hair and cooing reassurances.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered as he curled against her, his sobbing breaths loud in the cave. Finally, his breathing calmed and he lifted his head, a relieved look on his bruised face.

"Thank you," he said hoarsely. "I…needed that," he admitted with a self-conscious smile. She smiled back, her arms still wrapped around him and then blushed, swiftly pulling her hands away. He gently lifted his bandaged hand to stroke her cheek.

"It's okay, Astrid," he reassured her gruffly. "I-I understand…" But she was already shaking her head.

"No…Hiccup, it's not that, I…I l-like you, I think…" she murmured, blushing fiercely and he managed a smirk that really hurt his battered features.

"Can't resist all this gunslinger, huh?" he teased her gently and she blushed even more red. "Gods, you're really red, Milady. Does this mean you're managing to fight off my magnetic personality?" She swallowed and suddenly her eyes were shining with tears.

"How can you even say that?" she said in a broken voice, turning her face away. "You-you know what Dagur d-did to me…? How can you even want to t-touch me…?" He grimaced and braced his arms, shoving his body into a rocky sitting position, every inch of his battered shape protesting as he stretched out his broken hand and gently pulled her to face him.

"Astrid," he said sternly to her, lifting her chin with his finger. "I know what happened. Gods, I know you did all you could. And if I could have stopped it, by Odin, I would've. It's not your fault. And you are still the same person who called me a loathsome pig and lecherous scum!" She groaned and closed her eyes. "You were about half right! But you were also the same person who asked me to rescue her brother, who was willing to do _anything_ to save him, who brought me some soup…the best damned meal I've had in years…and who saved my life," he added softly. She blinked, slowly raising her azure eyes to meet his thoughtful emerald gaze. "Um, I don't have anything to offer to you, Milady Astrid…seriously, not even my gun…but one thing I can tell you is that I…like you and I don't care what happened because it wasn't your fault any more than it was my wife's. I care who you are…and who you are is a brave, feisty, smart beautiful woman that I-I would be honoured to…to…um…Thor, how do I put this?"

She swallowed and took a shuddering breath. "And you were doing so well," she murmured with the hint of amusement.

"Really outta practice," he sighed, grimacing as he moved.

"I should get you something for the pain," she murmured, rising and walking to the fire, returning with a covered bowl of a herbal smelling liquid and another bowl of soup. She flashed him a small smile and carefully fed him the herbal mixture. he coughed and gagged.

"You know, I think even Gobber's mead is better than that-and that stuff is lethal!" he protested painfully, coughing and cringing as he tried to support his broken ribs. She looked mildly apologetic.

"Gothi says this will help with the pain," she told him primly.

"Is this the one who doesn't actually speak?" he asked sarcastically, coughing wretchedly.

"She may not speak but she does communicate," Astrid told him firmly and forced him to take the rest of the mixture. "And she is the elder of Berk and a skilled healer. This _will_ help!" He coughed and caught her hand desperately.

"At least, take this damned bandage off," he pleaded softly. "I've drunk that poison because you asked me…I just wanna feel my face and see what's happened…please?" Her heart melted at the soft plea and she nodded.

"Gothi will kill me," she murmured but raised her gentle hands to unwind the bandage from his head, uncovering the purple swelling closing his left eye. She winced and he sighed.

"That bad, huh?" he said roughly. She pursed her lips.

"Not about to win any beauty contents, Hiccup," she told him gently, raising a hand to caress his battered face. "But Gothi says it will heal…" He managed a slight smile.

"I'd be happier hearing that from her," he admitted as the screech of an approaching dragon sounded. His head snapped round and he winced. "What the…?" he began, his head spinning slightly.

"She's coming back," Astrid reassured him, resting her hand softly on his shoulder as she saw his breathing accelerate. "She went to get some more medicines and bandages…and probably to check Gustav hadn't burnt her house down…" His brows dipped slightly.

"Where am I?" he asked suddenly, staring around the cave he was lying in. There was a short, curved passage the other side of the fire leading outside with dull light spilling in round the corner while to his left, there was a passage that echoed away into the mountain. Astrid stood up and brushed off her skirts.

"You're in the old mines, five miles out of town," she told him. "These belong to Alvin's wife's family but were abandoned maybe twenty years ago when the silver ran out. No one's come up here for years!"

"Except me," Ryder groaned, peering at the grey daylight spilling in. A bowed shape walked in, leaning on a tall staff, her rounded, hunched shape still energetic for all her advanced age. Gothi was a very old woman with piercing and brilliant blue eyes, grey hair pulled into a long plait straight down her back and scruffy grey clothes. She glared at Astrid and whacked her with the staff. The girl winced, uncomplaining as Gothi glared at her for disobeying her orders and scratched at the floor, leaving a trail of symbols scraped white against the grey stone.

"What's she saying?" Ryder asked as the old woman leaned forward and grabbed his face, peering into his swollen features. She poked the swelling round his eye. "Oww! Your bedside manner leaves something to be desired!" he complained. She whacked him on the shoulder with her staff and he yelped as she scratched a couple more symbols. "Oww! I can't understand you!" he protested.

"She says 'no bed so not a problem'!" a voice said as another shape closed from the entrance. Ryder stiffened as a tall, lean shape limped closer. Gothi swatted at him with her staff and he hopped backwards, a grin flashing across his face. "You'll have to be quicker than that, old woman!" he teased her and she rolled her eyes, turning pointedly back to her patient, digging a pot from her satchel and starting to smear ointment onto the swelling over Ryder's left eye-socket and cheek.

The strange man limped closer and Ryder managed to note that he was limping hard because his left leg ended a few inches below the knee, an unusual metal prosthetic replacing the foot and leg. He was lean and lanky in patched brown pants, shirt and waistcoat, filled with energy but keeping his distance from the patient. Gothi turned and slammed her staff on the floor, glancing impatiently at him and reluctantly, he limped closer, his head partly turned away from them, messy grey-streaked reddish brown hair flopping over his pale face. Gothi waved him closer and wearily, he dropped to a knee by her, handing the healer a little pouch of a fatty ointment.

"This will take the swelling down and help the bone to knit more swiftly," he said, his gentle and slightly nasal voice reassuring. As Ryder peered at the man, he saw horrible scars down the left side of his face, marring the pale skin and crossing the eye over and over. The right eye was a bright forest green, filled with life…but the left was a faded green marred with white scars and the gunslinger realised the other man was blind in that eye. Suddenly breathing hard, he looked deep into that green gaze, feeling a sudden flutter of familiarity.

"Will I lose the eye?" he asked directly and the older man gave a grimace. He shook his head.

"The eye is undamaged, there's just bruising which will go down," the man told him, shying back. Ryder flicked a look to Astrid, reading surprise on her face. Her gaze was flicking between the two men and her brow furrowed. She was looking as confused as he felt.

"Do I know you?" Ryder asked him suspiciously. The man shook his head, getting to his feet-flesh and metal-with surprising agility.

"I doubt it," he said quickly, his tone ashamed, his hands curled against his chest. "I've been Gothi's assistant for a long time now." He backed away as Gothi turned to him and beckoned him closer. He sighed. "But I think I know you, Hiccup," he said softly as the gunslinger flinched in shock. "My dragon gave you that scar on your chin when you were about six months old. Starlight was distraught when he caught you with his wing." He lifted his chin and gave a defeated sigh as Ryder stared at him in shock, a feeling of utter dislocation washing over him. "My name is Leo Gudmundir. I am your Uncle."


	18. Back from the Dead

**Eighteen: Back from the dead.**

Ryder stared at a dead man who was claiming to be his uncle and wondered if he was, in fact dead himself. If Heather had walked round the corner next, he wouldn't even have raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you s'posed to be dead?" was all he could manage, his brain still numb with shock. The man-Leo-backed up a pace and nodded.

"That I am," he replied warily. "I nearly was. Fortunately Gothi found me before I could succumb to blood loss or infection. But it took me months to get back into any sort of shape…and by then, it was obvious the town was lost. Had I appeared, Alvin's men would have killed me on sight…if they recognised what was left after the Whispering Deaths finished with me…" Astrid frowned and stared at him.

"I think she doesn't know the story," Ryder said, wincing as Gothi prodded his bruised chin. She poked his shoulder firmly and he cast Astrid a questioning look. She shook her head. Wincing as he limped, Leo slowly moved to a rock and sat down.

"I think she can see a resemblance," he commented. "You look like I did, twenty years ago. Before my sister was murdered by Alvin's men as they tried to kidnap her and her young son, Hiccup." Astrid's eyes flicked to Ryder and widened. He shrugged.

"I'm not sure I look like anything now," he said roughly, wincing as Gothi poked his ribs. "Oww! How-how is this supposed to be helping?"

"I'd trust her," Leo advised calmly, stretching his right leg with a grimace. "When my sister-Valka Haddock, the Sheriff's wife-was killed, I was determined to find those responsible. I got a couple but three still worked with their master-Alvin-and one had escaped, a man named Espen Randall. The child vanished, presumed slain. My brother in law was a mess…"

"Still is," Ryder grumbled and Leo sighed.

"Losing your wife and son will do that," he said quietly.

"Done one, not the other," Ryder admitted and Leo's eye filled with sympathy.

"Then you know the pain-and that everyone deals in his own way," he said gruffly. "I was obsessed. I took Gobber with me to arrest the men…unwisely as it turned out. Alvin wasn't handing them over and because I was pretty slick on the draw, the first thing they did was break my hand and make sure I could never fire a pistol at them again." Ryder's eyes were drawn to the man's left hand, partly wrapped in scruffy bindings and cradled protectively in his right. "And then…well, they decided they wanted to make an example of me…"

But Ryder recalled Gobber's words, spoken with such a schooled lack of emotion that he knew the whole experience had been horrific beyond words.

 _"_ _Leo was captured by Alvin's men…I was wi' him. He wouldnae stand down-stubborn as a mule, that lad-so they tortured him horribly, broke his legs and left him in a mine tae die. I heard the Whispering Deaths…and a scream…"_

"It's okay," Ryder said quietly. "Just tell what you want." Astrid cast him an irritated look because she wanted to know the tale but Leo lifted his grey-streaked auburn head and nodded.

"Once they had finished torturing me, they hauled me to the mines-this mine-and Alvin called his Whispering Deaths-which live here," he said reluctantly. "I…was a mess. Both legs were broken, lots of other things too but I was alive…and I stood the smallest chance…because I had done Dragon Master training before I concentrated on metallurgy with Gobber. So when they came for me, I tried to train them…" He winced and Ryder found Astrid's hand as she inched closer to him for comfort. He pulled her closer against him, suddenly feeling the need for human comfort because he didn't want to hear the the horrible outcome… The green gaze flicked up and a slight, self-deprecating smile crossed his scarred face, the expression hauntingly reminiscent of the younger man still being prodded by Gothi.

"I take it didn't go well," Ryder hazarded and Leo sighed, shaking his head.

"You could say that," he conceded. "The first damned one took my left leg, then half my hand…" Ryder's eyes were drawn again to the left hand cradled in his right and nodded as Astrid buried her face in his shoulder. "And then I managed to calm the damned things and they drew back…but I was still trapped and didn't want to go out there and get killed. I managed to get a tourniquet on my wounds but I was trapped and weak from blood loss. I could hear the Whispering Deaths still slithering around and I knew if I lost consciousness, they would finish me. And then…Starlight came for me. He managed to drive them back as I slipped in and out of consciousness and that night, he took me to Raven's Point Butte and brought Gothi to my unconscious body. I was taken to Gothi's isolated hut, more than half dead and she took me in. I hovered around death for a long time and when I finally recovered, I was far less than the man I had been. Maimed, half-blind…I would have gone back if there had been any hope…but the news I heard was that Berk was Alvin's and Stoick had given up."

"So you stayed with Gothi?" Astrid asked softly. Leo nodded.

"I could at least do some good there, translating her scratches and helping her tend the sick," he admitted in a shamed voice.

"But Stoick would still have been pleased to see you," she told him. Shaking his head, Leo looked up into her face.

"Or would I be a constant reminder of his dead wife and his utter failure to protect her, avenge her and accompany me in trying to bring her killers to justice?" he asked her softly.

"That's it-he's gotta be my relative because he shares my opinion of the Sheriff," Ryder said dryly.

"You got a smart mouth, kid," Leo told him.

"And you've got a thick streak of pragmatism, old man," Ryder shot back. "You never went back because Alvin would kill to get to you…just as Dagur will kill to get his claws on me…"

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Astrid asked Gothi. She nodded.

"WHAT?" both men said as one.

"It's like looking in a mirror," Astrid said. "He really is just like you!" Ryder gaped.

"C'mon-that's ridiculous!" he protested. "I mean he's old and one-legged and one-eyed and…" Leo gave a small smile that echoed some long-buried memory and he felt a very eerie tug of familiarity. "Oh Thor, this is madness…"

"But not impossible…" he commented. Ryder sighed and pulled Astrid's hand to his chest. He looked into her face.

"I knew Espen…was not my natural father," he admitted. "He told me as he lay dying after Eret shot him as they rustled our cattle." He paused. "He explained…he was hired to kidnap a woman and baby…but when she…my Mom…was killed, his employer told him to dispose of me. And though he was a bad man…he couldn't kill a kid, so he ran and raised me as his own."

"Why didn't he bring you back?" Astrid asked.

"What-and hang for murdering my mother?" Ryder asked him. "He wasn't a child-killer…but he wasn't suicidal either. He died before he could tell me where I came from…not that I could go home anyway. I mean, how can you just turn up twelve years later and claim to be a son who was thought dead? No, I had to look out for myself, meeting Heather when I was thirteen and worked with her father as a wrangler on a big Gronckle ranch. I worked hard and saved up like mad and when I was fifteen, I asked her to marry me. She said yes and we bought a tiny, farm on land so bad no one else would even attempt it. But it didn't matter because we were together and I would work every hour Odin sent to make it a success and provide for her. But just over a year later, she was murdered and they took the herd and burnt the farm. So I was alone…again…and this time, it was time to look for the men who done this and get my revenge."

"But…you're home!" Astrid said in a shocked voice. "Gods, after all these years…" He stared at her and shook his head with a smile.

"Wow, great homecoming," he said dryly. "I end up killing four men on arrival and nine more as I take my revenge…oh, and Dagur is tearing the town apart to get to me!"

"Not to mention Alvin," Leo said quietly. "You killed his son."

"Actually, he thinks Eret-Dagur's man-killed him," Ryder commented calmly. "So Alvin wants to destroy Dagur." He paused. "Of course, Dagur has destroyed the Outcast Compound but missed Alvin and his wife…"

"And Alvin will have gone for his brother's help," Leo said grimly. "Do you have a clue who he is?" He rose painfully, limping hard on his prosthetic leg. "Drago Darkheart the Deathbringer, the most feared bandit in the west!" Ryder face palmed and then cried out in pain at the action.

"You might as well shoot me now," he sighed. "Even I can't sort this one out. I may have avenged my wife and father by destroying the town of my birth." Leo paced back and forth, breathing hard as Gothi finished treating him.

"Your dragon can't fly, can it?" he asked thoughtfully. Ryder looked up and gave a small shake of the head. Toothless crooned softly, nuzzling closer to the young gunslinger, sensing his distress. Leo took a small pace closer. "Can I see?" he asked softly. "I've never seen a Night Fury…" Ryder nodded and beckoned the dragon forwards.

"Toothless…this is Leo…" he murmured. "I think he's kinda my Uncle. _Don't_ bite him or blast him, okay?" Toothless got to his feet and looked calmly at the tall, lanky man as he dropped to one knee, tilting his head and allowing his lips to tilt in a small smile. He carefully extended his left hand…

…and the watchers all tried not to gasp as the hand stretched out, the ring and little fingers missing and index finger crudely amputated at the first joint. Toothless sniffed and then pressed his nose into the scarred palm, closing his eyes and crooning. Leo gave a lopsided grin.

"Hey there, fella," he said gently. "Can I have a look at your tail? And maybe we can see what we can do for you, hey?" The dragon gave an excited purr and flipped his tail up so eagerly, he smacked Leo in the face. The man landed across Ryder and Astrid. He groaned. "I think…he needs a bit more…training…" he managed, lifting his head slightly and dodging the swinging tail. "Hmm…left terminal fin completely avulsed…maybe a prosthetic with moveable clockwork positioning…"

"What?" Astrid growled, scrambling from under the pile of limbs. Ryder gave a yelp of pain as she pressed on his broken ribs and lots of other bruises.

"I think he wants to build my dragon a mechanical tail," he guessed in a pained voice. "Hmm…so he's the crazy inventor type of Uncle…"

"So you've accepted the uncle thing?" she teased him, resting him back on his crude bed and bringing the blanket up over him. He caught her hand gently and squeezed.

"I know it doesn't look like it, but I _have_ seen myself in a mirror and that man looks just like an older version of me-albeit one tortured by Alvin, half-eaten by a Whispering Death and who's hidden out with a crazy old woman for twenty years!" Gothi whacked him with her staff again. "Ow! Will you quit that!" he snapped. Astrid leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead.

"Get some rest!" she murmured. "And don't worry…I'm here…" Ryder smiled up at her, his mind whirling with everything that had happened.

"You-you don't have to stay," he said softly, gesturing to the cold surroundings. She smiled down on him, her fingers tracing his sharp and stubbly jaw as Leo grabbed a pencil and small notebook and despite his missing digits, began to sketch swiftly and accurately.

"No, I don't," Astrid said. "But I want to."

oOo

He awoke with the sensation he was lying between two bodies. the warm smooth shape of Toothless gently against his right side while to his left, there was a soft body, silky hair brushing his cheek. He rocked this head slightly and saw Astrid curled up at his side, a blanket pulled up over both of them and a small hand gently resting on his chest. The fire had almost died and the air in the cave was cold and vaguely damp but he felt warm, inside and out. Somehow, despite everything he had suffered and done, he was lying here with a unique dragon and a girl who had every reason not to trust him but who had saved his life. And who he was kind of falling in love with…

He blinked. _Love._ That was a word he hadn't considered except as something from the past, a state he had once possessed but never would again. Something he had shared with Heather. Something torn from him most cruelly with her rape and murder. Something he had never sought and certainly didn't deserve. But which Astrid certainly did.

She mumbled and snuggled against him and he winced as she unconsciously leaned on his broken ribs. She had insisted on staying with him as he dozed, waking him to redress his wounds and dose him with another bowl of the foul painkiller that Gothi had left. The old woman and Leo had left sometime while he had rested and he had found himself regretting the other man's absence. Despite what had clearly been a horrific experience, there was still a calm and positivity about him that made Ryder want to spend more time with him. The fact he was clearly an older version of himself and knew his mother were also reasons to spend time with him-as was his determination to build a prosthetic for Toothless.

Wincing, Ryder slowly sat up, taking care not to wake Astrid and managed to crawl out of the warm nest without groaning in pain. He managed to stagger to his feet and slowly limped to the entrance of the cave, gritting his teeth and resting a hand against his broken ribs as he emerged, blinking, into the bright early morning sunlight. The mine looked down over a wide, shallow valley, abandoned workings and spoil heaped to one side and a wide track heading down to the valley floor, between the precipitous orange stone buttes. Yawning and giving a small stretch that had neck-joints popping and him hissing in pain, he found Stormfly sitting by the entrance and gave her a gentle pat as she cawed in greeting. He ran his hands through his matted auburn hair and winced: he really needed a wash in the worst way. Rubbing his face, he stared across the valley and then squinted as he saw a dragon flapping towards them from the north.

As the dragon grew nearer, he narrowed his eyes in surprise: it was an unfamiliar breed with a flattened head and a narrow, backwards-facing nose horn. The wide wings swept swiftly through the air, four small legs tucked up under the body. The dragon was a darkish grey, its small eyes focussed on the cave. On its back, a lean shape was leaning forward, grey-streaked auburn hair blowing in the breeze and a wide smile on his scarred face. Ryder backed up as the dragon backwinged and landed neatly, growling at the stranger. Leo grinned and swung his metal leg over the dragon's back, then dismounted.

"Is that…?" Ryder asked hoarsely. Leo clapped him on the shoulder and nodded.

"Starlight," he nodded. "My Flightmare." Ryder gaped as the older man gestured for the dragon to scamper into the cave. "He's nocturnal mainly…" And as the dragon hit the gloom, there was an obvious whitish blue glow around it and it gave a little growl. "Easy, Star-I know there's another dragon in there…"

"That's a Flightmare!" Ryder repeated. "I've never seen one. They're incredibly rare…"

"Says a man with a Night Fury," Leo grinned, his emerald gaze twinkling. "I found him up in the mountains when I was on my Dragon Master training. He was injured so I tried to help him and…there you are."

"He glows," Ryder murmured, staring after the dragon. He heard Toothless give a little growl and Starlight respond…and then there seemed to be a dragon conversation going on.

"Don't worry, Hiccup-Star's a big softy," Leo reassured him. "Flightmares are only really aggressive over their food source: otherwise, he's just a big kitten."

"What do they eat?" Ryder asked, painfully turning back to the cave.

"Algae in mountain streams," Leo told him. "He feeds up there overnight and the luminous chemicals make him glow. He's as loyal as possible and has saved my life more than once!"

 _Just like Red…_ "Hmm…I'll bet Fishlegs would be fascinated…" Ryder murmured.

"Fishlegs? Ah-he finished his training? I am glad," Leo said with a small smile. "He was such a keen lad-loved his dragons. He was fascinated by Star…" Ryder stared at the man, hearing warmth and enthusiasm in his voice: it was clear he loved dragons. "Now…I have something for you…" he said, gesturing to the bundle he had in his arms. It was clear he was in good spirits as he showed a contraption of leather and metal. "I've done it."

"You've built a prosthetic tail?" Ryder asked, limping alongside the older man back into the mine. Leo nodded, his enthusiasm infectious.

"Well, a prototype anyway," he admitted with a wry grin.

"So it may not work at all?" Ryder asked him, quirking an eyebrow.

"He may not even allow me to put it on…" Leo admitted with a smile and Ryder whistled. There was the sound of steps and a feminine 'ow' as Astrid was barged aside by an over-eager Night Fury as Toothless bounded towards the gunslinger, knocked him to the floor and began to lick him. Ryder was struggling not to groan in pain, having landed on his back and jarred his ribs and about a hundred bruises. Toothless was all over him, nudging him and he painfully extended a hand, stroking the smooth face.

"Hello, bud," he groaned.

"I was worried about you!" Astrid stated shortly, brushing herself down. There was a visible Night Fury paw print on her skirt from when Toothless had galloped over her to get to the gunslinger.

"As you can see…I have everything under control!" Ryder wheezed, grimacing in pain and drenched in Night Fury saliva. She burst out laughing. "Still unable to resist all…this…" he sighed, his hand waving from his position on the floor. "Little help here?" Astrid giggled as Leo limped forward and stuck his hand out: it was his left. The hand was wrapped in scruffy bindings, concealing most of the scars and the missing fingers and Ryder accepted the help gratefully, hissing in pain as he was hauled to his feet. Astrid moved to his side and helped him to sit by the little fire which Toothless had reignited while he had been out and he ungratefully drank the horrible potion Gothi had left…but, in truth, he was more interested in what Leo had in his arms. Astrid and Leo had both insisted he eat before they tried to fit the tail.

And it had taken all three of them, because Toothless had treated it like a grand game, bouncing around like a puppy and refusing to keep still…until Ryder had finally called him over and the dragon had responded eagerly, crooning and purring wildly. Leo had deftly fastened the prosthetic tail on and Astrid had been impressed at how good an approximation it had been to the missing fin. She shared a glance with Ryder who had shrugged and winced: both supposed it was because the man had used a prosthetic himself for years and had experience in making one.

"I'm not sure how well it will work," Leo had told them, bending over the device. "Like all dragons, the fin moves to facilitate flight…but an artificial fin can't do that. It's controlled by this pedal here…meaning the dragon needs a rider…" There was a pause. "Don't look so enthusiastic!" he added seeing Ryder's shocked face.

"You mean I…what…you…?" he mumbled.

"I think he volunteered," Astrid grinned, seeing the battered young man's face fill with uncertainty. Leo patted the Night Fury and tightened the saddle slightly round his neck.

"Hiccup-have you ever been on this dragon?" he asked seriously and the young fugitive finally nodded.

"Um…he lay down so I could crawl onto his back to get out of the Berserker Compound," he admitted. "He clambered over the wall and took me to the back of the Hostel…"

"Gobber's death-trap of a place?" Leo asked, an eyebrow arching in surprise. "Well, I think that answers that. You're his bonded human, no doubts! Now, I would suggest trying now but frankly, I know from experience that you feel like shit and even breathing hurts, so maybe waiting a couple of days may be more sensible…" Ryder shook his head stubbornly.

"Dagur ain't waiting," he said gruffly. "He'll be looking for me and terrorising the people of Berk, with no Alvin to stop him." Leo's head snapped up and his warm eyes suddenly grew cold.

"And he'll be back with his brother and wreak havoc on Berk," he said in an arctic voice. He suddenly stood and limped to the Flightmare, curled in a corner, glowing and crooning worriedly at his rider's anger. Painfully, Ryder limped to Toothless and threw his leg over the saddle: he was an experienced dragon wrangler and rider so he settled comfortably enough in the saddle…but Toothless wasn't about to take things slowly. The dragon galloped for the entrance and Astrid raced after them, afraid for the badly injured man.

"HICCUP!" she shouted as they shot into the air. They began to fall sideways and hanging on for dear life, Ryder desperately tried to work out how to deploy the tail using the pedal. Another dragon shot past her as Leo and Starlight raced after the listing Night Fury. They spiralled down as Leo shouted at his newfound nephew.

"Left heel down-NOW!" he bellowed. Gripping on for dear life and all but passing out from the wrenching his ribs and broken hand were getting, Ryder barely heard him but he snapped his heel down as instructed…

…and the tail snapped open, causing them to shoot upwards, past the diving Flightmare and levelling out much higher than expected. Ryder leaned forward, his battered shape leaning forward over the dragon's short neck. feeling the powerful muscles play under his hands.

"Easy, bud," he groaned. "Not the most sprightly here…"

Toothless gave a grumble in reply, eager to fly after so long cooped up and then grounded by his lack of tail. He shot through the air, heading in the direction of Berk and Ryder's eyes widened in shock as he spied the little town, skulking in the depression beyond the last line of hills.

"Thor-NO!" the fugitive cried and pulled hard, forcing the dragon to bank left, taking them round in an ungainly loop back towards the mine. Toothless was suddenly struggling, the tail fixed in the wrong position and Leo and Starlight raced after them. The older man was gesticulating and Ryder realised he would have to alter the position of the tail. By trial and error, he managed to get the tail in the correct position and they levelled out, with Starlight gliding neatly alongside. He was shaking and he was feeling lightheaded. Toothless was grumbling as they headed back for the mine but the Night Fury could feel him trembling and finally landed. Ryder more or less fell from the saddle-into Astrid's arms.

"Morning, Milady Astrid," he groaned. "Fancy seeing you here!" She smiled softly and hugged him close.

"You idiot!" she scolded him lightly. "What were you thinking?" He managed a lopsided smile.

"I was thinking I need to get Toothless into the air and learn how to fire a gun again…because Dagur is looking for me…and Alvin will be coming back…"

oOo

Far to the South-West, a powerful shape dismounted a Whispering Death and walked forward, offering his arm to an equally huge and powerful shape. The two men clasped hands and murmured greetings. Alvin's dark eyes met an equally dark glare of his half-brother, Drago. The man was the equal of Alvin in height and mass, his skin a deeper hue and marred by multiple scars and his hair hung in dreadlocks around his savage face. His single brand of a beard swung as he moved.

"Is your wife safe?" he growled. Alvin nodded.

"Secure in her family home and guarded securely," he replied. "Nothing is more important than family…including making the gang pay that killed my son!" Drago nodded grimly.

"Well, brother-are you ready?" he growled. Alvin nodded once.

"It's time we headed north…and crushed that Berserker scum!" Drago grinned yellowly and turned to his huge gang, all packed and ready to travel. "Come on, men! We head…to Berk!"

 **A/N: Yes, Leo is an older version of Hiccup.**


	19. Countdown

**Nineteen: Countdown.**

It had been frustrating, trying to fire the pistol Astrid had brought him. His broken hand made holding the pistol agonising and the wrappings he needed to support the broken bones meant he couldn't grip the weapon as tightly as he needed. His aim was off and his draw was appalling…and both would cost him his life. But he had shot again and again until his arm was numb and his ears ringing…but the pain and the wrappings foiled him. So finally he slumped forward, exhausted and dispirited.

"Have a break," Astrid said gently, offering him a mug of some herbal tea she had brewed. He accepted wordlessly, really wishing for a cup of mead but knowing there was zero chance of that.

"I can't hope to finish Dagur if I'm this useless," he murmured. "He'd shoot my ass off."

"And such a cute ass," Astrid smirked. His green eyes flicked up to inspect her face. It was three days now since he'd escaped from Berk and while the bruises on his face were starting to fade, his more serious injuries had only just started healing. He smiled back: Astrid had stuck firmly to his side, only flying back to Gothi's once to check on her brother, and caring for him as his own personal nurse. She had practiced her shooting as well-she was a pretty fair shot, as Ryder had noted with surprise-though she had explained her father had wanted her not to be helpless. Neither one mentioned that one brave woman was little match for an entire gang of utterly amoral Berserkers.

"You know, I never did get to inspect yours," he reminded her and she punched him in the shoulder. He yelped and glared at her. "Owww! I'll never heal if you keep giving me new bruises to add to my collection!" She leaned forward and dared a peck on the cheek.

"Better?" she asked him and he stared at her in shock. Then he pulled himself together and hummed in pleasure.

"I think I just died and went to Valhalla!" he murmured causing her to blush fiercely. "Which is where I'll be if I can't manage to shoot straight!"

"You are awesome," she reminded him. "You don't just lose all that…it'll come back…in time..." But his emerald gaze flicked up as he heard Leo limp into the mine, murmuring hellos to the dragons. Wincing and giving her hand a squeeze, Ryder stiffly got up and walked achingly toward his Uncle. The man had brought yet another upgrade to Toothless's tail and the dragon obediently lined up waiting for it to be fitted. Ryder's own skills-he was a fair blacksmith when he put his mind to it-had enabled him to help Leo work the kinks out of the tail assembly-especially as he had insisted on flying the thing strictly against Gothi's orders. The two men had worked well together but there was something that Ryder needed to ask him. So he waited until Toothless had sprinted to the entrance, showing off his tail excitedly to Stormfly and Star and sighed.

"Be with you in a moment, bud," he murmured. "Just got something I need to ask Leo." The older man lifted his face and grimaced.

"Y'know, that sounds anything but good," he sighed. Ryder walked closer, still limping slightly as his Uncle clumsily got up. "What is it, Hiccup? Can I help you with anything?" Ryder gestured to his left hand.

"How did you cope?" he asked directly and saw the man wince. He closed his eyes for a long moment and took a shuddering breath.

"You know I was left-handed…like you are?" Ryder nodded. "When Alvin took me down, he made sure he…cut off my trigger finger so I could never threaten him again. He broke my hand…both my legs…and when the Whispering Death attacked, I instinctively threw up my hand to protect myself…and well, there wasn't much left…just enough to grip a pencil." Ryder closed his eyes and grimaced. Then he heard Leo walk closer and felt the man's right hand grip his face and lift his chin. He opened his eyes to gaze into the scarred face-almost his own face twenty years hence, if he had been on the wrong side of Alvin.

"Hiccup-when they took my hand, I thought I would never shoot a pistol again…but I learned how to, using my other hand," Leo told him in a low voice. "And I won't be ever as good as I was-but I can handle myself. You, my friend, still have your hand. And it will be painful and it will make you not wanna do it but you have to take that wrapping off and keep the hand loose. Don't let the pain own you-you own it. Because Astrid says you are quick enough to stop Dagur the Deranged and Gods know, he needs stopping!"

"But how do you cope after…this?" Ryder asked softly, gesturing to himself. The older man narrowed his eyes, hearing maybe a hint of fear…

"This happened before, didn't it?" he asked. "How did you cope then?" Ryder turned away abruptly, his head down and shoulders tense. Astrid, who had come to listen, saw his face: taut and pained.

"I have my revenge," he murmured softly. "I had to track down the men who killed my wife. It gave me a reason to go on." Leo's eyes flicked over to the shape of Astrid, her azure eyes concerned.

"You got a better one now, Hiccup," he told him firmly. "That woman over there loves you-Gods alone know why! And while I've missed the last twenty years of your life, I have every intention of being in the remaining however long." Before his eyes, the younger man straightened up a little and lifted his head to see Astrid looking at him. He gave a small nod as she walked forward and hesitantly took his good hand. He gently raised it to his mouth and kissed it, then turned his head slightly to look at his uncle.

"Y'know, when Alvin tried to take Mom and me, he didn't just kill Mom," he said quietly, "he stole twenty years of my life with my family-my true father, my uncles, my cousin. And Spitelout and Snotlout are dead-though what crazy family would name them that anyway…?" Leo grinned-he had the same reservations about Haddock naming traditions. "Help me shoot again and fly Toothless-and I'll help you stop Alvin."

"And then we'll _all_ stop Dagur!" Astrid added, her grip tightening reassuringly on his hand. Ryder shook his head.

"The Berserkers," he corrected her. "But Dagur is _mine._ "

oOo

Stoick stared at the little photograph as he did every evening by the light of the oil lamp. The image of the little family: himself with the sternest and proudest expression possible, Valka with the serene expression on her beautiful face and the small baby sat on her lap, his tuft of reddish-brown hair appearing dark on the sepia picture. His big thumb slid gently over the image and he gave a heavy sigh.

"I know she loved you to the very end, Stoick, but she wouldn't have been too impressed with how you've performed since," a voice said from the back of the room. In a flash, the huge man was up, his revolver in his hand, pointing steadily at the man who was in the furthest shadows of the room, his lean shape sheathed in the gloom.

"Who are you? What are you doing here? You can tell Dagur…" Stoick growled. The lean outline sighed and shifted slightly.

"Never met Dagur so I doubt I could tell him anything," the man said quietly. "And I would rather you didn't shoot me. I mean no harm." There was a slight movement as the man tilted his head. "Hmm-you look like you've been in the wars recently." There was a large fading bruise on the Sheriff's forehead, the swelling subsiding since he was knocked out by Dagur a week earlier.

"Who are you?" the Sheriff growled.

"You know, Alvin is coming back?" the man said quietly. "Dagur killed some of his gang and destroyed his compound…but the man and his wife got away. He will have contacted his brother and he will be returning to Berk to avenge the attack…and the death of his 'son'."

"Snotlout wasn't his son," Stock said in a dead voice, his aim not wavering.

"Alvin thought he was," the intruder said quietly. "He'd adopted him as his Heir. I know he shot Spitelout to claim him. I know Snotlout was a loathsome narcissistic self-absorbed individual who kidnapped a young woman to rape and abuse at will."

"Dagur was-is-still looking for Astrid Hofferson," Stoick murmured tonelessly.

"She was rescued by Ryder, who slew Snotlout and ensured Alvin blamed Dagur's gang for it," the intruder said softly.

"How do you know?" the Sheriff asked, cocking the hammer of his gun. The lean shape lifted his hands.

"I'm unarmed," he said softly. "I think we both know the answer, Stoick." The Sheriff's face folded into a scowl.

"I need to speak to that murderer," he growled.

"He is your SON!" the intruder said decisively. Stoick suddenly leapt forward, a hand closing around the man's neck and slamming him hard against the back wall. There was a groan and the imprisoned man stiffened as the cold muzzle of the gun pressed into his chest.

"I could kill you and no one would bat an eyelid!" the Sheriff snarled. "I've had more than enough of you scum plaguing this town…" The man took a shuddering breath and then spoke very softly.

"Wouldn't matter because I am already dead," he said.

Stoick swung him round by the neck and threw him bodily across the room, tipping over the table and slamming across the carpet. The scrawny man moved painfully, winded and bruised from the brutal impact, his messy grey-streaked auburn hair dishevelled and obscuring his face. Painfully, he shoved his arms under his body and pushed himself upwards, his left hand wrapped in layers of bindings, his left foot missing and a metal prosthesis replacing the missing extremity. Stiffly, the man lifted his head and stared up into the furious face of the Sheriff.

"Hello, brother," he said defeatedly. Stoick's eyes widened and his grip on the gun tightened dangerously, his hand shaking. His eyes fixed on the horrible scars over the man's left cheek and eye, the bandaged hand and missing left lower leg. And the familiar emerald gaze.

"Impossible," he gasped.

"No more than the 'murderer' you wish to speak to actually being your lost son," Leo said quietly. "But I have seen and spoken to him and I am convinced he is my sister's lost son. Gods, the boy is the image of me…before I decided to arrest Alvin…"

"But Gobber said…heard…"

"You know, over all the years I have nursed my amputations and the aching in my broken legs and hidden my ruined face from you and pretty much everyone and never dared to return to Berk because I feared Alvin would kill me and anyone near me, I have always wondered… _why the hell didn't you come with me and bring a Gods-damned posse?"_ Leo asked him sharply, pushing himself up to his knees. "You completely abdicated responsibility, Stoick! She was my sister as well and I wanted her avenged and her murderers brought to justice. I wanted to see if there was any chance of retrieving her lost son…but you just sat by her grave or sat here and waved us away. And Gobber and I busted our asses, shaking men down, chasing leads, investigating everything we could. But we needed you! And when we had the evidence, the names, had you and enough men come, we could have got him! We could have put out a warrant for Espen Randall and got the boy back! But instead, you told Gobber and I to go alone…and the rest…well, did you even bother to put a memorial up for me or was I as forgotten as your son?"

Stoick uncocked and lowered his gun.

"Gobber heard you die!" he said. Leo painfully staggered to his feet, grimacing.

"He heard me _scream,"_ he argued shortly. "Strangely, having a Whispering Death bite your leg off will do that! Did you send _anyone_ to come and see if there was anything left?"

"Well, Gobber was injured and…"

"I fucking know you didn't!" Leo shouted. "I lay there for over a day, mangled and dying of blood loss and shock…until Starlight came to rescue me. If they had shot him down, I would have died. You could have come. You could have saved me. In the end, the only place I had was with Gothi…and when I finally recovered enough from my wounds to leave her hut, Berk was lost. And of course, you never went after the boy, either."

"I-I…"

"I gave you my notes… _everything_ I had learned!" Leo told him angrily. "And because of that, he was lost for twenty years. He lost twenty years as your son! And in that time, his 'father' was murdered and his wife was raped and murdered before him. And he wouldn't have suffered that pain if you had done your Gods-damned job!" He limped back and forth across the carpet. "I've spoken to him-Gods, he's a sarcastic shit, but he's also brave and has a well-buried sense of right and wrong. But he will stand up for those he cares for…like a man I used to know…"

"I can't do anything!" Stoick said gruffly. "They all have more men than me. Dagur owns more than half the town and Alvin owns the rest."

"Bullshit!" Leo snapped. "You call the Governor and the State Marshals and they'll come and set this town aright- _if_ you call. Is it your pride? Or just have you abandoned them like you abandoned me and the boy?" He limped towards the back door. "Alvin is coming. Drago Darkheart is coming! And Dagur is in control of the town, is _terrorising_ the town!" He paused, breathing heavily. "If you won't do something, I know a man who will…"

And with that, he left, the door closing almost soundlessly as Stoick stared at the faded sepia photograph.

"Son…" he murmured.

oOo

Ryder determinedly removed the wrappings from his broken hand and stared at the bruised mess. It almost hurt to look at but he slowly gritted his teeth and grasped his pistol firmly. His face was pale between the bruises and he was sweating with pain as he aimed and fired. His first few shots were off but he concentrated harder than he had since he first picked up a pistol, after Heather had been murdered and soon, every shot was impacting the same point on the abandoned ore truck.

Quietly, he moved back and repeated the process again, then began drawing, aiming and firing. The pain almost killed him and he dropped his pistol a couple of times, but eventually, he could manage a reasonably slick movement. It wasn't his normal speed but it would probably do…

…except against Dagur.

Once his hand was aching beyond endurance, he had whistled Toothless and limped to the dragon, this time trying out the latest modifications Leo had made to the tail assembly and controls before he got in the air. It had been a week since he first flew on the Night Fury and he had now started to form a genuine and close bond with the dragon. They soared the skies away from town, flipping and swooping, learning to fly as one using a tail that Leo had devised but which Ryder had helped modify until it had become the work of both men…and one dragon.

Astrid remained at his side as he relearned how to shoot, talking to him and seeing him unfreeze just a little every day. Gustav had flown Gothi on the seventh day, protesting that Leo was busy, and she had managed to make it plain that she had no intentions of repeating the trip with a whooping out-of-control twelve year old on an equally out of control dragon. And then Ryder had sat down and had a stern talk with the boy about dragon ownership and responsibilities to others…especially passengers…

But when they had left and Ryder settled by the fire, Astrid had come to sit by his side as she had almost every time since he awoke. She poked the stew in the pot and served up a generous portion for the convalescent and he obediently took a mouthful, then gave a small sigh. "It was almost worth getting beat up to get such good stew," he sighed, his lips quirking in a smile.

"You know, Gustav told me you were a pretty good cook yourself," she teased him. He cast her an amused smirk.

"Um…Dad couldn't cook…and nor could Heather…so I learned to cook from a young age," he admitted. "And when Gobber tried to poison me with his appalling stew, I knew I ought to at least take over the cooking while I was there…"

"Apparently the twins and Gustav feasted off your leftovers," she teased him.

"And my reputation takes another hit!" he sighed. "Between rescuing damsels in distress and cooking a mean stew, how'm I s'posed to make a living as a ruthless gunslinger?"

"Maybe a change of career would be in order?" she suggested, resting her head on his shoulder. He cautiously slid an arm around her waist, looking askance from her. He was very aware that she had been very much misused and wanted to make sure that she was comfortable with any contact…but she smiled and snuggled against him, closing her eyes.

"Hmm…not sure what," he murmured. "Maybe dragon wrangling and training. It's what I'm best at, I guess…"

"Whatever you want to do, I will support you," she murmured. "After all, some kind soul gave me a little over two thousand dollars to keep me going…and I guess I would want to share them with the man I love…" He stiffened and she opened her eyes and stared up at him. His green eyes looked blankly into the gloom past the fire for a long moment, then he blinked.

"L-love?" he murmured. She smiled gently.

"I-I think so…" she said softly. "E-ever since you rescued my brother and treated me like a person, not an object. And since…you saved me, I-I have known…I-I understand if you…well…can't…" He turned his head to her, leaning towards her so their lips almost touched.

"I already love the feisty, brave blonde who saved my life and nursed me back to health. I-I can't say I won't be difficult…because I have ghosts in my past, Milady…but I would be proud to spend my life with you as well…" And his lips gently met hers, their bodies moulding together as he raised a hand without permission to her cheek. "I love you, Milady Astrid," he whispered.

"I love you, Hiccup," she whispered back and kissed him again.

oOo

Gobber was sitting at the table in his saloon, sipping his home-made mead. He would never admit it to anyone but the latest batch had been very rough…but he was working his way through it well. The twins were messing around out back and hammering away-though when challenged, they just claimed to be 'getting ready'. Their grins certainly didn't inspire any confidence.

Dagur and his gang were patrolling the town day and night as they had for the past week, seeking for news of Ryder or Astrid and Gobber was used to them bursting in several times a day, hoping to catch one or both fugitives just sitting at the table sharing a mead with the proprietor. They had smashed up various houses and generally persecuted anyone with ties to Alvin or Ryder…though they had problems with the latter, since the only people he had interacted with him had been the Berserkers, Gobber, Stoick, Fishlegs and the twins…and all of them were immune in a way…except Gobber. So he didn't even bother to look up as a set of limping steps approached from the kitchen.

"He ain't here!" Gobber growled.

"Drinking that rotgut will kill you as surely as your cooking will!" an unfamiliar voice said…as Gobber looked up…to meet a scarred visage that had him choking on his drink. "See? My point exactly!"

"But you-you-you're dead!" Gobber coughed. "I-I heard you die!"

"Um…I screamed when a Whispering Death bit my leg off," Leo said with a sigh. "Thank you _so_ much for bringing it up, I have _completely_ gotten over it after twenty years…not!"

"But how…?" Gobber whispered.

"Trained Dragon Master, remember?" Leo sighed. "I eventually managed to stop them attacking me…after losing several body parts…but Star had to rescue me and take me to Gothi…"

"And ye've bin there ever since?" Gobber gasped. His face was shocked. Leo shrugged, something his scrawny, lanky frame was well-suited for.

"Nothing to come back for," he admitted. "And I kinda reckoned Alvin would have a price on my head. Though that doesn't seem to be a problem now…I hear Dagur is a more immediate threat?"

"Eh, laddie-the town's in even more of a mess than when ye…left…"

"And he's after my nephew and Astrid?" Leo checked.

" _That's_ where I've seen that sarcastic streak o' piss!" Gobber exclaimed, slapping his forehead. "Of course, he's the splitting image o'ye before…this…" He gestured to Leo and the man quirked a definite eyebrow.

"Gee, _thanks!_ " Leo said sarcastically as Gobber suddenly stared at him.

"Ye've met him," he realised.

"Yes."

"Is he alive?"

"Yes."

"And healin'?"

"Yes."

"But how…?"

"Gobber-I have not risked coming here to play twenty questions!" Leo told him firmly. "He's safe, healing and with the Night Fury which he has bonded with. The girl and her brother are safe as well. But I am here because Drago is on his way here with Alvin…so this town will be a war zone when he arrives. You need to get outta here, my friend…you and anyone else who doesn't want to avail themselves of a twins quickie!" Gobber paused but suddenly he stared very closely at the scarred man.

"Ye know the twins?" he asked directly and Leo nodded.

"Met them about three years ago in the cemetery at night," he admitted. "I was visiting Val. Gods know what _they_ were doing there at that time."

"Dinnae ask-probably burying someone who isnae quite dead yet!" the blacksmith shrugged. "And those two idiots ne'er said a thing?" Leo flashed a sudden grin.

"Not sure you ever listened to them talking about Uncle Hopalong," he grinned and Gobber started. He tended to tune the twins craziness out…just as everyone else did. "Yes, they knew. They told me a little…but there was no regular contact because I stay with Gothi. And Star would be a prize for the Trappers…" Gobber nodded in acknowledgement. "Anyway, my friend, please-get outta here…at least until this is done."

"And who will end it?" Gobber asked in a defeated voice. "We just wait until the two gangs fight to a standstill…?"

"Or we allow my nephew to do what has to be done-since that seems to be all he has been doing since he arrived…" Leo said and smiled. "I gotta go…"

"I think not!" a voice said from the door and Leo's head snapped up, his green gaze widening in shock as Dagur walked into the saloon. Instantly, the one-legged man turned and raced for the kitchen-to meet Vorg coming out, his pistol posted menacingly at the lean shape. Leo backed up, raising his hands. He stared from man to man and his eyes fell on the carrot-haired, pale-green eyed shape of Dagur.

"Dagur the Deranged, I guess," he said calmly.

"I've never met you-but you look familiar," he said, walking forward and grabbing the man's hair, pulling his head back. "Hmm…I heard you saying you knew where Ryder was…"

"Wow…I'd have thought a big dragon merchant would have better things to do than listen at doors," Leo suggested, earning himself a punch in the gut. He folded up but was grabbed by two men and held helpless.

"I want to know where Ryder is…and who you are as well…" Dagur said with a menacing grin. Leo rolled his eyes.

"Don't always get what you want," he sighed. Dagur almost shook with rage…then grabbed Leo by the throat.

"I think I will…" he breathed. "Take him to the Compound. I want no interruptions…"


	20. I think I have a Plan

**Twenty: I think I have a plan**

Gobber stumbled out into the yard as soon as the Berserkers had gone, dragging the improbable shape of Leo with them. The old blacksmith was looking around wildly, blue eyes scanning the shadowy space until he caught sight of the little workshop with warm lamplight spilling into the cold yard. He could hear the bantering voices of the twins as he threw the door open and stopped: both of them were playing poker using dragon scales as chips…mostly…

"I raise you half of Belch!"

"Fine. I raise you ALL of Barf!"

"C'mon-I already own all of him twice already…"

"Three times lucky…?"

"Okay…"

"Leo's in trouble!" Gobber panted, unable to wait for them to finish their hand…which looked like it could last some time. Both heads snapped up and four grey-blue eyes narrowed in surprise and immediate concern. The twins leapt to their feet, the game forgotten.

"What happened?" Tuff asked grimly.

"Dagur has him," Gobber explained breathlessly. "He caught him in the saloon…"

"What was he doing there?" Ruff asked him directly.

"Warning me about Alvin," Gobber admitted. "His half-brother is on the way…"

"Well…duh!" Tuff scoffed. "Why do you think we've been making coffins like crazy?" Gobber gaped at them then blinked.

"Why didn't ye warn me he was still alive?" Gobber asked them grumpily.

"He asked us not to," Ruff said more softly. "I-I think he was ashamed at how he looks…"

"Which is stupid because he looks awesome!" Tuff added. Gobber blinked.

"Dagur has him because he thinks he knows where Ryder is," Gobber told them, trying to engender a sense of urgency.

"And he does," Ruff mused, her eyes thoughtful. "But he won't talk, will he?"

"He's a stubborn bastard," Gobber confirmed. "They'll have to kill him first…" Ruff and Tuff grabbed his hands and hauled him to the stable where a bluish white glow was spilling from under the doors. Gobber gaped as they flung the doors open and the glowing dragon looked up at them. "Starlight?"

"Yeah-we hid him in the stable coz he glows and that's a bit of a giveaway," Tuff explained, petting the Flightmare cheerfully. "Howya goin', Star?" Ruff hunkered down by the dragon and rubbed his nose thoughtfully.

"Leo's in trouble and needs Ryder," she murmured. "Can you take Gobber to him?" The Flightmare crooned and looked a little confused.

"Star-go see Toothless, okay?" Tuff suggested and the Flightmare gave a whirr of recognition. "Up you go, old man!" he added, winking at Gobber.

"What?" Gobber spat. "Can't you…?"

"Hey-I don't go anywhere without Butt-elf!" he replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Likewise Mutton-head!" Ruff added. Then she handed him a saddle-bag. "There are a few things in here he may need when he comes back!"

"Er…lassie-he canna come back…" Gobber protested as they shoved him onto the Flightmare, He fastened the saddle bag in place as Ruff grinned.

"Of course not-but he will anyway," Ruff told him happily. "Now go!" She slapped Starlight's rump and the dragon scampered out into the yard, took two bounces and flapped into the air, Gobber waving and shouting that he had changed his mind. The luminous dragon kept low as it zipped out of town and headed out into the canyons, flapping furiously for the mine…

oOo

It was the first morning where Ryder actually felt human. Admittedly, a very bruised and stiff human but he managed to get up silently without waking Astrid, beckoned Toothless out and went riding before the girl even stirred. His hand was dully aching and his ribs still flashed pain when he leaned the wrong way into the turn but the joy and exhilaration of flying the Night Fury made all his pains pale into insignificance. Because never in his life had he ever considered being bonded to such an amazing creature, let alone Toothless, who was in turns playful, fierce and loyal. He laid a hand on the dragon's head and felt a croon as Toothless folded his wings and dropped from the sky, with Ryder hanging on for dear life.

"AAARGH! TOOTHLESS!" he shouted. "Pull up, bud!" He instinctively pressed his heel down and the tail instantly deployed-and at the same time, Toothless gave his laughing warble and extended his great bat-like wings, shooting himself up on the thermals over the bare rocks, soaring the pair high in the clear morning sky. Ryder grinned at his companion. "So you want to play, eh?" he taunted the dragon. "You overgrown lizard, you?"

Toothless gave a little barking roar.

"Barrel roll!" Ryder called, lying almost flat on the dragon's neck, his hands clamped tight on the leather and the dragon gave a small roar. "FIRE!" And Toothless willingly fired three shots, all impacting the same spot and blasting a huge chunk of sandstone from the opposite wall of the valley. Ryder sat up in shock and pulled Toothless into a hover, staring at the huge chunk of rock his friend had blown off a mountain. Automatically, he rubbed the dragon's head affectionately, his green eyes narrowing. "Wow…you can do that all the time?" The dragon nodded with what was definitely a smug expression. Breathing hard, the gunslinger stared for another long moment.

"I think I can see how this is gonna work after all," he smiled and jerked his head to the left. "Let's get back. Astrid will be worried." Another warble. "Okay, and Stormfly too," he added with a small laugh. The Night Fury had swiftly become very close to Astrid's Deadly Nadder and Ryder actually found himself relieved that the two dragons seemed to get along. It would be awkward if the two didn't, since he was beginning to realise he had fallen in love with Astrid.

And it was a problem. Not that Astrid wasn't amazing: a brave, determined and resourceful young woman who had been trapped by the vicious threats of the Berserkers but had still retained her spirit and fire. A woman who had the courage to threaten him and seek his help for her brother…offering the only currency she had-herself-for the favour. A woman who had come to his aid when he was in desperate straits and had nursed him tenderly back to semi-health. And a woman who grew more vivacious, attractive and intelligent with the more time he spent with her. He already knew she was in love with him. And that was the issue.

Because he didn't deserve her. In the time since he lost his wife, he had become cold and ruthless and incredibly sarcastic…well, more sarcastic. He had to admit, he had always had a sarcastic streak but that had worsened as he had closed off love, affection and compassion, focussing only on revenge. And he had been ruthless in his pursuit of the aim, taking what he could for himself and not caring who got hurt. And he had shot and killed far more people than he cared to recall. He had been cold, driven and cruel. And then suddenly, back here in Berk, he had met Astrid…and despite every instinct to protect himself, he had started to fall for her…unwillingly and slowly but inexorably. And that was the other problem.

Everyone he loved died. His so-called father, Espen; Heather: Red…and his Mom-well, he assumed he had loved her. He couldn't recall Stoick as a father but the man had so exasperated him by his inertia that he doubted he could love him, though he perhaps could one day be on civil terms. And he was more scared than he wanted to admit because now he had a whole new tranche of people he cared for who were targets: Astrid-of course,Toothless…Gobber and Leo.

He blinked. While Astrid seemed to have stolen his heart and Toothless was definitely his bonded brother, his Uncle had swiftly become a friend, someone to trust…and a link to his lost mother. He blinked. Any or all of them could be a target to get to him. He blinked. The sooner he got fit and got away, the better.

Astrid was waiting as they skimmed low over the slope and came in for a fast landing. Her arms were folded but her lips were twisted in a small smile, her azure eyes twinkling as she watched him wince as he dismounted from Toothless. The Night Fury bounced excitedly and gave the girl a sniff: she gave him a good rub as he bounded past into the mine to see Stormfly and then she turned to the battered gunslinger, walking up to him and taking his good hand.

"You know, I was worried when I woke up and found you gone, Hiccup," she said gently. "You, sir are _sneaky…"_

 _And very, very bad…_ he admitted privately, but his fingers curled around hers and he allowed a small smile to lift his lips. "You never need worry, Milady Astrid-I won't leave you," he assured her roughly. "You definitely deserve better…" She smiled-then punched him on the arm. He yelped. "Is this how you always communicate?" he asked her dryly.

"Only to very bad men who sneak off for a dragon ride without me!" she told him with a grin. "Come in, Mr Ryder, and have some breakfast!"

"It would my pleasure, Miss Hofferson," he smiled back, "providing you aren't throwing it at me…"

They had almost finished some left over stew and she had checked his wounds when the screech of a dragon sounded outside-and Ryder's head snapped up, his eyes lighting with anticipation. Starlight the Flightmare always announced his arrival and he invariably galloped in, glowing and then hid in the back of the mine, as close to Toothless as he could get. But today, he scrambled in with the bulky shape of Gobber perched unsteadily on his back, with Gothi hanging on behind the blacksmith, hitting him with her staff.

"Aargh! Yer old witch! I cannae control this damned reptile!" he protested. Gothi whacked him again and slid off the dragon, shaking her head and stalking over to Ryder, her eyes rolling in exasperation. Gobber scrambled of the Flightmare, which scampered away as the big blacksmith limped towards the injured gunslinger. Ryder frowned, a sense of worry washing over him: if Gobber had wanted to see him, he would normally have ridden Grump…provided he could wake the dragon. So why was he here on Starlight?

"Where's Leo?" Ryder asked directly. Gobber looked shifty and shuffled his peg leg uncomfortably.

"Um…damned Star took me tae Raven Point Butte instead o'here!" he began as an explanation. Ryder looked into the man's face and his green eyes narrowed with concern.

" _Where is he?_ " he asked dangerously. Gobber gave a sigh.

"Dagur has him," he admitted after a long pause. Ryder's eyes widened in shock and his hands closed tightly around the big man's shoulders, the faintest flinch of pain as he tightened his broken hand the only clue to his pain.

"How?" The question was rough, urgent.

"He was in mae saloon," Gobber admitted. "I think he'd bin tae see yer father…and he came tae see me and warn me that Berk was going tae become a war zone. He wanted me tae get out safely. But I think we were under surveillance from the Berserkers…becoz they came in and they captured him. They think he knows where ye are!" Stepping back a pace, Ryder shared a worried look with Astrid. If Leo talked, Dagur would find them both.

"You need to go with Gothi-NOW!" Ryder said softly. "Get Gustav and get away-away from here. Leave and never look back!"

"No! I can't leave without you!" Astrid said determinedly. "Hiccup-I'm not letting you go…"

"Toothless will find you, Milady…if you get away," he told her sternly.

"Ye…ye dinnae need tae worry," Gobber told him heavily. "Dagur has him. And he'll be torturing him. But Leo will ne'er talk, laddie. He'll ne'er betray ye. No matter what Dagur does tae him, what he suffers, he'll ne'er break. He's a stubborn man and that will cost him."

"Oh Gods," Ryder murmured. He glanced at Astrid. "You have to go…and so do I. You with Gothi…and me…I'm going back to Berk."

"Hiccup…no!" she breathed. "It's what they want…" Her hand found his but when he turned to her, his emerald gaze was cold.

"I have to save him," Ryder told her simply. "He is my family. He has done everything he can to help me, when he could have remained dead. He's helped Toothless to fly again…" He took a shuddering breath. "He's helped me to shoot again!"

"Dagur will carry on until he kills him," Gobber told him grimly. Then he slid the satchel over his head and handed it to Ryder, breathing hard. "Yer know, I thought he was dead and then he turns up alive…because he had tae warn me tae escape." He paused. "Ruff sent the satchel, by the way. She thought ye may need the things in there!" Turning away and limping towards Toothless, Ryder flipped open the flap of the satchel then lifted his own gun in a his rig…he gave a slight smile at the familiarity and wonder how the Hel Ruff had gotten the pistol. And then, underneath, were a dozen sticks of dynamite.

A click brought him back to the present. He looked up to see Astrid cocking her own revolver and checking it was loaded. His eyes widened and he leapt froward, grasping her wrist ferociously.

"NO!" he shouted. "Gods, Astrid-NO!"

"You _need_ me!" she argued, her eyes sparkling with anger at his possessiveness.

"No-I need you _alive!'_ he shouted at her. She recoiled at his sudden rage, still tugging fiercely against him.

"I am not your possession!" she snarled at him. "I can handle myself!"

"And if you can't?" he shouted at her. "If Dagur gets you back? What then?"

"Then I-I…." she began.

"Astrid…Milady…you can't…" he said in a suddenly broken tone. "I couldn't endure it…"

"You don't tell me what to do!" she argued desperately. "I can't let you go alone…"

"I'm better alone," he groaned. "Because alone, there is no one to lose; no deaths to kill you inside, piece by piece; no guilt; no one to mourn…"

"It's too late," she told him, ceasing fighting. "Because I love you. As does Toothless. You can't just hand yourself over…Not alone…"

"No-I am begging you !" he said urgently, leaning close against her. "Please, Astrid…I can do whatever needs to be done, however bloody, if I know you are _safe_. And I have to go for him…because he didn't give up on me. When Stoick gave up, he carried on fighting…until Alvin broke him." He looked up at Gothi and she gave a tiny nod. She knew the truth, the shame he had carried with him for twenty years, the truth that Ryder had guessed because he also was broken.

"Hiccup…?" Astrid asked, her eyes searching his turbulent green gaze.

"He broke. When Alvin shattered his body, he splintered his courage as well. Leo gave up…for twenty years he hid, ashamed of what he had become, of what he had said…" Gothi nodded sadly at his words and Gobber gaped. "Leo is a man-however brave, however stubborn, he is a man…and men…have limits…"

Her hands were gently rested on his cheeks, her azure gaze staring deep into his emerald eyes, leaning close to him. "I am stubborn and brave," she murmured. "Just like the man I love. And I can't lose him."

"Astrid, I couldn't survive losing you," he told her huskily, the vulnerability leaking through into his words. He had allowed himself to feel again-but that meant risking the pain. "I can't lose someone I care for again. I'm not strong enough, Milady. It will kill me."

"Which is why you have to go after him," she murmured, leaning close. "I understand, Hiccup. But I'm not alone. I have Stormfly and Toothless to look out for me. I'll hang back and stop you being flanked…but you're not going in alone…" He leaned forward and pressed a desperate kiss on her lips. She kissed him back, desperate and fearful. "You're not the only one who has lost almost everything," she whispered. "What makes you think I want to go on if I have to lose you as well?"

He kissed her again, a gentle kiss and his breathing calmed as his lips quirked into a chagrined smile. "Hmm. My reputation takes another hit. The lone gunslinger-plus girlfriend…lacks something in the _lone_ department…" he sighed.

"It's gonna get worse, laddie," Gobber told him with a resigned look. "We're coming back as well!" Ryder stared at Gobber and Gothi, then back at Astrid, who was smiling gently, and kissed her softly on the forehead.

"Oh Gods," he murmured. "Pass the dynamite." He paused. "I need tools, metal, dynamite, another gun and some dragons. I think I have a plan."


	21. Showdown

**Twenty-One: Showdown**

They dragged him out of the Berserker Compound and across the Plaza towards the hostel. The sun was up, the wind was gritty and he felt eyes on him as he was thrown to the ground, biting back a groan. Dagur walked past him, circling like a cat round a particularly stupid mouse. Then he kicked him, an unconscious yelp escaping as he buried his head in the crook of his arm.

"Well, old man, you're as stubborn as Ryder but you'll come to the same end. You're just right as a friend for that treacherous bastard!"

"Hooray for me," Leo mumbled thickly through bloody lips.

"You can make this easy," Savage suggested, motioning to two of his men, who grabbed the slumped and battered shape. "Just tell us where he is. It's stupid to put yourself through so much pain for a stranger."

 _But he's not: he's my nephew, my only surviving blood kin,_ Leo thought and shook his head slightly. The men dragged him to the front of the hostel and stared up at the sign, hanging from a pole sticking out from the side of the rackety building. They swiftly shot off the sign, then threw ropes over the pole and stung the man up by his wrists, the ropes tight as they hauled the lanky shape up, head bowed forward and legs-real and prosthetic-hanging limp. Dagur grinned and fisted the grey-streaked and blood-streaked auburn hair, hauling the battered face up. He stared into the scarred features and sneered…for a moment. On a whim, he pressed his hand over the left side of Leo's face and frowned.

"You know, from this angle, you like like him," the Berserker commented then grinned, pulling away, grabbing a rifle and hammering the barrels across Leo's middle. "That just pisses me off even more!" Groaning and twitching, Leo screwed his eyes shut and waited for the next blow. Vorg's laughter echoed across the Plaza as Dagur landed another hefty clout across his body with the rifle.

It had been a long night and a longer morning for Leo because the Berserkers hadn't let up. They had been brutal and determined but also measured…and they had been careful not to beat him senseless. There had been a lot of torments they had tried on their prisoner and Dagur had been astonishingly patient…but he was now showing signs that his patience was almost exhausted. And that meant Leo would probably end up being maimed or killed in the very near future…notwithstanding the fact Dagur had already broken most of his remaining fingers and beaten him to a bloody mess.

"I'd hate to ruin this rifle-I'd never get another one like it," Dagur murmured, gazing fondly at the weapon, the purplish barrel etched beautifully with a flock of Skrills in flight.

"Stop hitting me with the damned thing," Leo mumbled. Savage punched him in the back and he hissed in pain, arching his back as Dagur absently wiped a smear of blood from the metal and caressed it gently, ignoring the battered man hanging by him. "Okay, brothers…your turn to have some fun…"

Stoick and Fishlegs walked out onto the Plaza as Dagur walked to lean against the fence, his pale green eyes narrowing as he saw the people of Berk slowly emerge to watch the show. And it _was_ a show, a demonstration of his complete mastery of the town and disempowerment of every other authority. The twins peered over the gate and saw the shape hanging-and they ducked down in shock as Savage ground his cigar out on the man's neck. His gasp was barely audible.

"Odin! It's Uncle Hopalong!" Ruff exclaimed.

"What in Loki's name is he doing here?" Tuff asked her, hearing the man grunt in pain after the sound of a blow. "He always meets by his sister's grave and never comes into town. Dagur got him when he saw Gobber...so why is he here?" Ruff peered over her shoulder and saw Vorg shake out a whip.

"Doesn't matter," she murmured, "because we gotta help him." They heard the Berserker scream for the location of Ryder and shared an alarmed look. "Crap. Get the dragon-I'll get our guns, Mutton-Head. If no one else is gonna stop this, then the Thorstons are!"

Stoick's eyes widened at the lean and battered shape hanging from the ropes, the bowed head showing the grey-streaked auburn of his brother in law…and he watched Vorg strike him with a whip. Dagur was standing in front of the prisoner, screaming questions at him and the only answer was a barely perceptible shake of the head. The Sheriff stared at the ugly scene in disgust: Dagur was torturing a man in the centre of town as if Stoick didn't exist…and he may as well not, for all the use he was. But this man was his wife's beloved brother who had given so much to chase down her killers when Stoick had abdicated responsibility.

… _she loved you to the very end, Stoick, but she wouldn't have been too impressed with how you've performed since…_

But almost all of Dagur's gang were in the Plaza, lounging around the helpless shape of Leo and Stoick was alone…he saw the twins pop up then duck down and he looked around the other citizens…but no one would meet his eyes. There was a shared shame that they were all watching a man being tortured and saying nothing. Another cry echoed across the plaza and Stoick flinched: he had seen what his brother in law had suffered in the past and the man was tough…but he was human. And Dagur would kill him.

His hand fell to the handle of his Colt and he took a single step forward…

…and then a huge explosion blew the Berserker house apart. The entire gang spun around in shock, staring as a second and third explosion demolished the main storerooms and the main gates. Simultaneously, three explosions sounded at the other end of town, the detonations reverberating through the town and a huge wall of dust billowing forward, swirling around the plaza and gradually thinning…to reveal the tall, lean shape of Ryder, his poncho moving slightly in the dry wind. His face was twisted in a sardonic smile.

"I hear you were looking for me," he announced. Dagur grinned as Leo forced his eyes open, the remaining green gaze darkening with despair.

"Go!" he mouthed.

"He's a dead man!" he scoffed, snapped the rifle to his shoulder and fired. Leo gasped and Stoick's eyes widened as the man staggered back and collapsed to the ground. But slowly, he got up and stared mockingly at the Berserker.

"What's the matter?" Ryder scoffed. "Losing your touch, Dagur?"

Frantically, Dagur fired at him again, the shots echoing through the plaza. Ryder stumbled back, arms flailing and hit the ground.

"Are you scared, Dagur?" Ryder mocked him, sitting up. "Aim for the heart or you'll never kill me!" As he got up Dagur shot him three more times and he staggered back, then fell once more. But as he got up again, Dagur backed off a pace, lowering his gun. The others were all muttering desperate prayers to Odin, Thor and anyone who would listen about the apparently unkillable man.

"Impossible…" he muttered as Ryder flipped his poncho up and snatched his own gun from his holster-then fired, each shot taking down a man before they even had a chance to react. A second gun was snatched from the second gun belt he was wearing as he tossed his own pistol aside and he took out another six men. Then behind him, there was a roar and the black shape of Toothless appeared out of the swirling dust. Ryder stood by the dragon, its maw filling with purple plasma, pupils narrowed to slits. Sliding two bullets into the chamber, he fired and the ropes holding Leo parted, dumping his limp shape on the dust. Then the gunslinger walked forward, flipping his poncho up and revealing a crude metal breastplate fashioned from the ore truck. There were six marks where Dagur had shot him-all over the heart. With an easy movement, he unhooked the protection and it hit the ground with a metallic thump.

"Well, Dagur?" Ryder asked him as Astrid and Stormfly landed out of range at the far end of town, with Gobber and Gothi on the distraught shape of Star touching down beside them. "How are you when it's just you, not a crowd of Berserkers or trappers to back you up?"

"Any time!" Dagur sneered, kicking Leo. Ryder stared at him and shot the man's rifle from his hand, then retrieved and reloaded his own pistol. All the time, Dagur eyed the Night Fury covetously. "My Night Fury," he stated. "You brought him back!"

"Wrong, Dagur-he's mine!" Ryder said firmly. "We have bonded. If you want him-if you want Astrid and Berk-you come through me!"

"Winner takes all?" Dagur asked coldly. Ryder lifted his chin.

"Well, loser's dead so, yeah, I guess so!" he said in a bored voice. Dagur walked cockily into the middle of the Plaza and faced Ryder.

"How's the hand?" he sneered. "Looked a little sore when Bucket broke it…"

"On three…" Ryder announced, ignoring the man's taunts and making sure he was ready, his stance secure and view unimpeded. "Sheriff? Think you could manage to count to three? Or is that past your meagre abilities as well?" Stoick took a couple of steps forward, his cold glare on the two men…

…one of whom was his son…

"ONE!" he announced, his hand still on his pistol. Ryder's emerald gaze was locked on Dagur's, seeing the man twitch, his eyes darting to his dead men-including the sprawled shape of Savage. And behind then, lying on the dirt and smeared in blood, was Leo…who hadn't broken, hadn't betrayed his nephew. The man's bleary gaze was resigned.

"TWO!" Dagur's fingers were twitching, his body taut. For Ryder, everything was slowing down: the swirl of dust, the sound of his breathing, the sight of Astrid, her eyes locked on his and filled with hope, the beads of sweat trickling down Dagur's face…

…his hand was painful, almost as much as his broken ribs which had been jarred by the impacts of the rifle shots. But being shot to death would be more painful. Losing Toothless would be agonising. Losing Astrid would be unendurable. His broken hand paled into insignificance…compared to that and to what Leo had endured to protect him.

It was time to repay the favour.

"THREE!"

The report of a gun echoed through the Plaza and Dagur stumbled back, his gun falling from his heavy hand. He glanced down, seeing an expanding patch of red on his shirt. Ryder kept his gun levelled at the man as he staggered back a pace and stared up in incomprehension.

"But…no one is faster than me…" he whined and pitched onto his face, dead. Breathing hard, Ryder walked forward, nudging him over with the toe of his boot, seeing the dead eyes staring up, still confused. Then he holstered his pistol and urgently dropped to his knees by Leo's side, wincing at the mess the man was in.

"Leo…" he breathed, his eyes filled with guilt and horror. "Gods-you should have told them what they wanted to know. I had Toothless. He would've protected me from them…" Groaning as he moved, Leo's eyelids twitched and the pain-filled emerald green met its twin: he fashioned a very weary smile.

"S'okay, Hiccup," he breathed. "I promised…"

Overhead, a shotgun poked through the shutters of an upper floor room in the hostel. Ryder urgently slid his hand under his Uncle, lifting him into a tender embrace. "Gothi's here-and Star," he murmured reassuringly. "We'll fix you up in no time…"

"Heard that before," he murmured as Stoick walked closer, his eyes filled with shock. Seeing the two men together-the matching body shapes, hair colours, eye colours, even facial features, notwithstanding the differences in age and in injuries-the Sheriff suddenly knew that Leo was right. The gunslinger…was his son. The shotgun stealthily lined up on the lean shape of Ryder below, bowed beside the freed prisoner…

And then a brace of shots rang out, Ryder stiffening and throwing himself across Leo…

…and through the upper storey window, Vorg pitched forward, flipping head over heels to land fatally hard on his back-had he not already got two equally-fatal bullet holes in his chest. He gave a couple of twitches…and then lay still.

Ryder looked up in shock as he heard the twins cheering wildly and bursting out onto the plaza, high-fiving and doing a ridiculous barn-dance in triumph. Fishlegs was cheering and there were claps and shouts of relief from the townspeople, assembled by the periphery of the Plaza. Astrid was shouting something and he cold see her and Stormfly beginning to run towards him. But Ryder's eyes were locked on the powerful shape of Sheriff Stoick Haddock, lowering his just-fired gun…


	22. Son or friend?

**Twenty-Two: Son or friend?**

Ryder stared at the Sheriff deliberately holstered his gun and walked steadily towards the gunslinger and the battered shape of his brother in law. Leo twitched his face in a slight smile.

"Hah…knew you had it in you…brother," he murmured, groaning as Ryder gently lifted his head and shoulders, cradling the beaten man against his chest. "And you, nephew," he sighed, screwing his eyes closed in pain as he shifted slightly. Ryder gently wrapped an arm around him as Astrid arrived and crouched by him, slamming a fist into his shoulder.. He yelped and Leo gave the slightest groan through his teeth as he was jostled.

"Ow!" Ryder protested. "Careful. Wounded man here."

"You idiot!" she snapped. "You could've been killed!" He managed a small smirk, his emerald eyes twinkling in relief.

"Yeah…well…that wasn't about to happen, Milady," he murmured. "I wasn't losing any more people I loved."

"Loved?" she repeated with a soft smile.

"Liked a bit? On nodding acquaintance with?"

"You want me to punch you again?" Astrid asked.

"Um…actually preferred the kissing thing, if it's the same with you, Ma'am…" he drawled, his mouth lifting slightly.

"Don't you Ma'am me!" she told him spiritedly.

"And happy…as I am…to see my favourite nephew with you…not feeling so good," Leo murmured painfully, his voice hoarse. Chastened, Ryder winked at Astrid then slid his other arm under Leo and grimaced as he awkwardly lifted the injured man. He groaned as he then levered himself and his burden to his feet.

"Gobber! Gothi! NOW!" he shouted as he limpingly made his way into the hostel and up the stairs two at a time until he reached the room Gobber had given him initially. Leo was gently laid down on the rumpled bed and he grimaced quietly, gritting his teeth and shifted slightly onto his side, easing the pressure on the welts from the whip. Immediately, Ryder shucked off his poncho and laid to over him then grasped his hand, feeling the grip tighten against another groan of pain as he shifted his broken shape. Smiling reassuringly to Leo, he heard the arrival of Gobber and Gothi…along with Astrid and the Sheriff. Leo was trembling, his darkened green gaze filled with pain and shame.

"I…I didn't betray you…" he murmured roughly. "Though…didn't remember having my leg chewed off…hurting the much…"

"Easy," Ryder murmured gruffly, affected by seeing the man in so much pain-on his behalf. Leo had protected him. "Gothi will patch you up…" The grip on his hand tightened, his face taut with agony.

"S'okay, Hiccup," he murmured. "Go…to your girl…I'll wait for you…" Ryder frowned, looking at Gothi…and she frowned as well, scurrying forward and seeing a dark stain on his side…the stab of a knife. She batted Ryder aside with her staff and beckoned Gobber, scratching urgently on his floor.

"Watch out-that's mae floor, ye auld witch!" Gobber grumbled. "Yes, I can get hot water and trowels…" WHACK! "Okay- _towels…_ " Astrid grabbed Ryder's hand and his warm fingers laced with hers as they stepped back and watched as the elderly woman efficiently and gently treated the wounds and explored and stitched the stab wound.

"Is he okay?" she asked and he shook his head.

"He's been stabbed as well," he murmured miserably. "Gods-he lost so much when he tried to bring Alvin to justice and ended up left to die, abandoned by everyone. He…he helped so much as I was recovering…and now he takes all of this to protect me…" He pulled away and vanished through the door. Astrid stared-and heard the thud of steps racing down the stairs. Without hesitating, she raced after him, seeing not a gunslinger or a killer who had shot down over a dozen Berserkers…but a young man, only her age, who had lost everything he cared for until he found his true family… Ryder pushed past Stoick, almost growling as the man grabbed his arm.

"Ryder…Hiccup…we need to talk…" he growled. The young man life his emerald gaze and stared at the Sheriff.

"Later…" he said gruffly.

"Son…" the Sheriff began and the young man pulled back, his face hardening and green eyes flashing.

"Don't!" he snapped. "Not now!" He shook his head. "I need…" He lifted his head. "TOOTHLESS!" he shouted and the black Night Fury galloped forward, his green eyes wide with concern for his friend. Ryder flung his leg over the dragon's neck, leaning low. "Get me outta here!" he muttered and pressed on the pedal...and Toothless launched into the sky, wings blasting gritty dirt into the Sheriff's face and Astrid's, as she emerged.

"COME BACK!" Stoick shouted but Astrid was more practical, whistling briskly to Stormfly, who flapped over to her. With a very impatient look at the man, she scrambled onto the Deadly Nadder and secured herself.

"C'mon, girl-UP! _UP!_ " she urged. "Follow Hiccup and Toothless!"

"Astrid-wait!" Stoick shouted at her and she paused, breathing hard.

"Sir? Can this wait? He's getting away!" she said impatiently.

"I-I…"

"SIR!" she said shortly. "I need to go after him. He's very upset, though he won't show it. He was very close to his Uncle. Please-speak to Gobber-or Leo, when Gothi has finished!" And then they shot up into the air, arrowing after the black shape in the distance. Astrid leaned low, tendrils of golden hair flapping in her face, her blue eyes narrowed as she locked on the retreating Night Fury. Hiccup could manage to fly far faster than she could manage on Stormfly in a straight line because the Night Fury was a faster dragon…but his injuries meant that he couldn't handle high speed turns or manoeuvres yet. But Toothless was going too fast to catch…

She leaned closer to her dragon, holding tightly. Her skirts were flapping around her legs as she made herself as streamlined as possible. "Call Toothless, Stormfly-stop him getting away!" The Deadly Nadder gave a loud roar and up ahead, there was an answering roar as Toothless suddenly banked, flipping and diving down towards the cemetery. Astrid directed her dragon after him, seeing the Night Fury swoop low and land at the back of the cemetery. As she circled, she saw the lanky shape stumble off the dragon and stagger through the rows of stones. She landed by Toothless and jumped off the Nadder, then walked quietly after Ryder…

The man was on his knees, his head bowed and fists pressed against his face, his dishevelled auburn hair wild after the fast ride. He was breathing hard…and then she realised, his shoulders were shaking. Very cautiously, she approached him and quietly crouched by his side, peering at his covered face.

"Hiccup?" she asked gently.

"You-you know he suffered so much…and he always felt a failure because he never caught Alvin, never brought him to justice for his sister," he said in a muffled voice. "And he did beg for his life…though they never spared him…" He took a ragged breath. "But when Dagur got him, he never said a damned word…and he suffered so much to hide me…and he came every damned day in that cave… _every day_ …not because he owed me anything but because he wanted to see me. I couldn't be the baby stolen from his sister but he offered me friendship even knowing what I was, what I have done and he never gave me up." He took another ragged breath and her hand found his shoulders. They began to shake rhythmically.

"Shh…Gothi will fix him up…" she soothed him but he shook his head.

"But he did it for me…" he whispered. "And I can see him…and Heather…and even the man who stole me as a baby, Espen. But I can't remember Mom. Not at all…" And he finally lifted his face, emerald eyes shining, the cheeks streaked with tears and Astrid stared into his face, then half-turned her head to see the stone he was staring at…and she realised he had stopped by his mother's grave…and his own. Her eyes lingered on the carved words:

 **HICCUP HORRENDOUS HADDOCK III**

 **Aged 1 year.**

 **KIDNAPPED, PRESUMED LOST**

"I think Leo felt alive for the first time in years because he realised there was something left of his sister," she murmured. "And he wouldn't betray you…no matter what Dagur did."

"They all suffered, all died, because of me," he murmured, staring hollowly at the grave. "Espen wouldn't hide because he needed to protect the herd but he made me go just in case; I couldn't protect Heather though I tried and now Leo…" His hands lay limply in his lap and she crawled to his side, taking his hand and leaning against him. Unconsciously, he leaned against her, his fingers gently lacing with hers.

"Leo's alive," she reminded him. "And your real Dad…" He closed his emerald eyes and sighed heavily.

"I don't recall him at all," he sighed. "Every time I hear the word 'Dad' I think of Espen, the man who stole me from my real family, who never told me where to go to find my past when he got killed. And I-I know it is cruel when he suffered as well…but I am only human…and he is just…a stranger…"

"Nothing at all?" she probed and there was a pause.

"Bright green eyes…and a laugh…" he murmured. "All I can see…just a fragment…" His eyes snapped open. " _Leo_. Gods, the only memory I have is of him!" He paused and leaned forward, laying a hand on the gravestone, gently sliding over the words:

 **VALKA HADDOCK- BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER.**

"I will stop Alvin-I promise…Mom…" he said a little more firmly. Astrid gave a small, proud smile as he sat back on his heels…and took her hand again. He softly raised it to his lips and ghosted a soft kiss on the back. "And you, Milady Astrid…" He looked into her eyes and kissed her more confidently on the lips, "I promise I will protect you." She blushed.

"Y'know, you couldn't have said something more…chivalrous," she said in an embarrassed voice. "I should be able to look after myself…and my brother…" He gently lifted her chin with a calloused finger and stared into her azure eyes.

"Maybe…you could look after me if I look after you…and we both keep an eye on Gustav?" he suggested softly. Her lips lifted in a small smile.

"Hmm…are you saying you need looking after?" she teased him and he nuzzled against her neck.

"Astrid…nothing would make me happier…" he murmured. "But I have something I want to check out…something I remember hearing when I was there...and seeing when I searched through Dagur's office."

"In the destroyed house?" she asked him and he lifted his head, his emerald eyes narrowing as he nodded.

"I think Toothless can dig through if needs be," he told her quietly, "but I need to see what's in that safe…" She pecked a quick kiss on his cheek and rose agilely to her feet…then offered him he hand to pull him to his feet. He ran his hand through his hair, managing to look even more messy than previously.

"What are you planning, Mister Ryder?" she asked him pointedly and he gave his lopsided smirk.

"I'm gonna make Dagur and his brothers pay for what they did," he said determinedly.

"I think you already did," she reminded him and he dipped his head slightly.

"No-I mean _pay_ …" he said.

oOo

The twins had cleared up the Plaza, laughing and whooping as they speedily and deftly tossed bodies into coffins and screwed the lids down as soon as they lodged the bodies in, then scrawled the names on the top in charcoal. Stoick had watched, mildly impressed that the two crazy twins could function so efficiently..and then he had watched as Gothi limped out of the hostel. He sped forward.

"How is he?" he asked gruffly. The old woman squinted at him and whacked him in the face with her staff. "Hey! You can't do that! I'm the Sheriff, you know!" he protested to little effect. She whacked him again then scrawled a few symbols in the dirt, glaring at him.

 _"_ _If you had been half the man he is, you would have gone looking for him,"_ she scrawled.

"I had just lost my wife and son," he protested.

 _"_ _He had lost his sister, his nephew and he still functioned,"_ she pointed out. _"He was closer to her than you. He needed you then. He needs you now. He is in great pain. Be a man. Be his brother."_ Then she stomped away into the twins' yard, where Starlight was cowering in the stable. The Flightmare reluctantly allowed her to mount and took off, flying her back towards her home at Raven's Point Butte. Stoick stared up…and saw the Night Fury and the Nadder zoom overhead, wings wide and cupping the air to slow as they backwinged and dipped over the shattered wall, touching down behind the ruins in the Dragon Auctioneers' yard. He almost started after them…but then stared back at the scratches and pushed the saloon doors apart, walking slowly and determinedly into he hostel…and in search of his brother-in-law…

oOo

Ryder was off Toothless almost before the Night Fury had furled his wings and striding determinedly into the wreck of the house. The upper storey was a mess as was the front with much of the facade collapsed onto the verandah…but Dagur's office at the back was still accessible, though there was rubble in the corridor and the door had been blown off its hinges. Ryder ducked under the bowed lintel then his emerald gaze scanned the room, looking at the desk and swiping chunks of plaster off the blotter and log books. His gaze flicked up as he heard the crunch of a footstep and saw Astrid walk in, her face filled with curiosity: he guessed she had never been trusted in here by the brothers.

He found the accounts book and flicked back until he covered the period when Astrid told him that her father had supposedly been gambling her away. And there was nothing. Though every other transaction-including the ones for his own stolen dragons-were neatly and precisely detailed. He frowned and then rose, heading for the safe and leaning close, his dexterous left hand twinging as he pulled on the broken bones. But he gritted his teeth and leaned closer, holding his right hand up to still Astrid so he could hear the faint clicks of the mechanism as he slowly and carefully turned the dial…first left…then right…then left again..and then there was the cluck as the lock opened.

Astrid tiptoed closer, her azure eyes wide as she saw him pull out a book of accounts, a sheath of dragon contracts and the lease for the house and lands. He handed her the bundle of notes without even thinking, then peered through the property deeds in the pile, scanning them until he fished one out…and then another…

"Here," he said quietly, handing them to her. She stared: they were the deeds to the Hofferson family farm-still in her father's name-and to the Berserker House and Compound…also in her father's name. Her azure gaze looked up.

"What gives?" she murmured.

"They rented from your father," he muttered. "Lease was up for renewal…and he certainly wouldn't have allowed them to stay with the threats they were making towards you and Gustav. So they framed him for gambling debts and took you hostage…not against a debt but against him forcing them to leave. That was why he wanted to see the Marshal-because stealing property is viewed a damned sight more seriously round here that murder or rape!"

She stared at him. "But how…"

"When they thought I was dozing…I listen," he smirked. "Not just a pretty face…"

"Not even!" she teased him and he gave her a wounded expression.

"How-how could you resist all this raw gunslinger?" he asked her plaintively. She burst out laughing and then the roof creaked. Both looked up…and then Ryder grabbed the wad of notes, the accounts book and the dragon deeds-then hauled Astrid, who was still holding the property deeds to the door. "C"mon, Milady!" he urged her, shoving her through the wrecked door. "This place is pretty unstable and it would be a real shame if we ended up buried because of a laugh!" She stumbled but he grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, staggering forward and stumbling over the rubble as dust began to float down and a horrible cracking sound echoed from overhead. They staggered out into the yard as there was a creak and then half the ceiling collapsed where they had been standing.

"Put me down, Mister Know-it-all!" she protested, still slung over his shoulder. He stood for a long moment and started chuckling. "NOW!" she growled and he gently lowered her to the ground, making sure she still had the deeds. He backed away.

"Hey, I'm not arguing…because every man who has shown an interest in you has ended up dead!" he told her in a mollifying voice.

"Yeah- 'cause you killed them, Hiccup!" she reminded him, smirking. And then her gaze fell on the deeds in her hands. She looked up…and there were tears in her eyes. She flung herself forward and her lips crashed into his. The accounts book and dragon deeds fell to the floor-though he retained the presence of mind to hang onto the dollars. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close as he deepened the kiss, lips locked together and tongues playing…until they had to break apart for air.

"Thank you," she murmured. "I-you don't know what it means to me…" He lifted a hand and pressed two fingers to his lips.

"Um…I can guess…" he admitted, a small smirk lifting the side of his mouth. He held her gaze for a second longer, before bending down to retrieve the dragon deeds…including deeds for Toothless and Stormfly. "And I thought we need these…because maybe we can do something with these dragons…and keep our own…"

"I-I can't believe that he…that they…if you hadn't killed them I would have done!" she snapped. He backed up a step and smiled.

"I believe you," he said swiftly. "Now maybe we need to check the dragons out and see if they need feeding and watering. I rather think they were too busy with Leo to care for them…" She saw it then…the little flash of the man he had been before, the dragon wrangler and farmer, someone who cared for his animals with diligence and love. And she felt her heart skip a beat at the hope he would feel something like that for her. She bundled up the deeds and accounts book as he tucked the money into his vest and then she slid her arm through his.

"Okay, Hiccup-what do you want me to do?" she asked.

oOo

Stoick hesitated at the door…then quietly tried to squeeze in through the door. He tripped over a chair that collapsed with a crash and winced as he stumbled in…to see Leo open his bleary eyes. The Sheriff winced again at the wreckage of the man's left eye, the horrible white scars that crossed the orbit and the whitened eye. And even his 'good' eye was dulled with pain and weariness.

"Stealthy as ever, Stoick," Leo groaned, shifting his body slightly.

"Um, sorry," the Sheriff said in an embarrassed voice. Grimacing, the patient lifted his head and swiped grey-streaked auburn hair off his face. Leo stared at him and sighed.

"Sure…you didn't come up here…just for that…" he said hoarsely.

"No…" Stoick admitted. "I-I…came to apologise and um…ask you about…"

"Hiccup…" Leo guessed. He sighed. "What…do you want to know…?" Stoick pulled up the other chair and perched eagerly on the rackety seat, clasping his hands in front of his chest. There was an eagerness in his face that had the injured man's heart sinking. The Sheriff's eyes were looking hopeful.

"Um…does he…you know…?" he muttered.

"No," Leo said tiredly and lay back, still propped on his side. "The boy was taken as a baby. He remembers the man who took him as his father. He has no memory of any of us…"

"So how…?" Stoick asked. Leo frowned.

"Guess the man had a small fragment of a conscience and couldn't murder a squawking infant," he said raggedly. "He went a long way to the south-west and raised the boy…until Dragon Trappers raided them, killed him and stole his herd. He's been looking out for himself since…" He swallowed painfully. "Not sure he needs-or wants-a father…more a friend…"

"And you are that friend?" Stoick asked, a faint edge to his voice.

"Helped him to heal," Leo admitted painfully. "Offered him reassurance when he was feeling bad…because I know what he was feeling." He sighed. "I think if you offered him friendship…he may take it…but you can't treat him like your son. You have to think of him…like a long lost nephew…"

Stoick growled at him and he sighed. "And you've taken my place?" he asked, his eyes narrowed.

"No-I've just been a friend to a man I met at his lowest ebb," Leo sighed, knowing his brother-in-law was prone to jealousy. "A man who looks like a younger me. A man who is the lost son of my beloved sister. A _stranger._ I'm no threat to you, Stoick. Just…take it slow…" The Sheriff rose abruptly.

"Thank you," he said shortly and left without a backwards glance, leaving Leo curled painfully on his side.

"Just don't drive him away," he murmured. "And don't hurt him any more. The lad has suffered enough…"

Fuming, Stoick walked out onto the plaza, breathing hard. It was bad enough that his son had been stolen and finally returned as a ruthless gunslinger and sarcastic drifter… but for his long-lost brother-in-law to have usurped his place as the boy's confidante…and then he blinked.

 _He wasn't a boy._ The man who had been born his son had lived a life Stoick had no part of, a life where he had been exposed to brutal loss and had become fiercely independent, sarcastic and violent in order to survive. And yet he had rescued Astrid Hofferson and Leo and taken out Alvin's adopted son-his own real nephew Snotlout-and Dagur's entire gang in the process. Every fibre of Stoick that was still the Sheriff was screaming at him to arrest the man…but the little corner that still missed his wife and son was reminding him he should give the man a chance.

He was still musing and staring in the direction of the wrecked Berserker compound when a screech sounded behind him…and he turned…to see three shapes swoop in in brown and orange Monstrous Nightmares…with a troop of cavalry on matching bluish Deadly Nadders behind him. The men on the Nightmares landed first, all dressed in matching black frock coats, dark waistcoats and crisp white shirts, their black hats beautifully brushed. The dull sunlight gleamed off their badges. Behind them, a Major was settling the troop down, all Nadders arrayed with their tails at matching angles.

"Marshal Per Larson," the first man-a big, blonde man with a bushy moustache-introduced himself. he gestured to his companions-both hard-faced and very powerfully built. "Marshals Kjetil Olson and Ole-Geir Arvidson." The two men nodded. "You requested our help via the Governor…and we thought bringing the 5th troop of the 19th Cavalry would be needed to deal with your problems…"

"And investigate what happened to the 1st troop," the Major growled. "So, Sheriff-tell us where those low-life lawbreakers are you called us for…and where is our damned Night Fury?"


	23. Where is our Night Fury?

**Twenty-Three: Where is our Night Fury?**

"…and where is our damned Night Fury?"

Stoick stared at the Major of the 5th troop of the 19th Nadder cavalry and tried to process his words. He had sent a telegraph to the Governor detailing the situation in Berk, his complete lack of deputies and back-up and the large number of his problems. But since then, Ryder…or Hiccup, as he should probably think about the man…had done as he had promised and taken matters into his own hands, setting the two gangs against one another, rescuing the kidnapped Astrid Hofferson and killing Alvin's adopted son before being almost killed and returning to gun down the entire Berserker gang in a fury of vengeance for the captivity and torture of his improbably alive uncle, Leo. He blinked. It was pretty hard to summarise for himself and he had watched the whole thing happen! And the Governor had never responded so he had given up on a reply…

"I wasn't aware the dragon belonged to you?" he murmured. Then he shook himself. "A civic-minded citizen has disposed of the Berserkers who had killed much of Alvin's gang. However, Alvin and his most trusted men escaped and it is certain that he will return with his brother, Drago Darkheart."

"So you do not, in fact…"

"Yes, we do!" Stoick growled. "Alvin is the man whose men kidnapped and killed by wife and kidnapped my son. My brother-in-law followed the evidence and was gravely wounded…though he lives…"

"Then we need to speak to him…" Marshal Larson growled and Stoick sighed.

"He's in the hostel," he admitted, "but he was badly hurt by Dagur and the Berserker gang when they were searching for Ryder…"

"Ryder?" Marshal Olson asked gruffly. He was a stocky man with dark hair and eyes and a lined, hard-looking face.

"The public-spirited citizen who gunned down the entire Berserker gang," Stoick said sarcastically.

"A gunslinger?" Marshal Arvidson growled, his hazel eyes squinting. He was weathered and balding with a small moustache that was greying. "Is the scum in the jail?"

"Actually, no, he…"

"Find him!" Larson snapped. "Odin in Valhalla! No wonder this place is such a mess if you can't even arrest a damned stone-cold murderer. Which way did he go?"

oOo

The twins sank down behind the fence of their yard and shared a worried glance. They had witnessed the arrival of the troops with a sense of deja vu and a small flutter of gratitude that Ryder had insisted they had to bury the murdered soldiers decently.

"They're after Ryder," Ruff hissed.

"After the dude wiped out the whole of the Berserkers? Harsh!" Tuff agreed.

"And it sounds like they wanna give Uncle Hopalong a tough time as well," Ruff hissed again.

"And they want to steal his dragon!" Tuff huffed. "Is there no end to their no-funness?"

"Doesn't sound like, it," she sighed and peered through the gap in the fence again to see the cavalry dismounting and taking their dragons to water at the troughs laid out before the Dragon Master's shop. Fishlegs was standing on his front walkway, watching with some concern. He could sense a bad atmosphere when he felt it…and he had seen the Night Fury come when the lean gunslinger called. The two had clearly formed a close bond…which meant the dragon would never go willingly with the soldiers. "Okay, bro-get along to Ryder and warn him…I'll see Uncle Hopalong!"

Tuff flashed a grin and immediately leapt to the hostel, swarming up the corner of the building and swinging up, parkour-style-onto the roof. He ran lightly along, leapt down onto the neighbouring shops and ran along the top of the verandahs, swinging down and leaping across hand-rails and tying-up posts to hide behind a water-butt and crawl on his belly to the next water trough. Stoick and the Marshals watched him with bemusement.

"What is he doing?" Arvidson asked pointedly.

"Don't ask me," Stoick sighed. "Crazy. Always have been…" Undaunted, Tuff scooched along a wall, then dive-rolled and vanished behind the Berserker compound. Stoick just shrugged. "Crazy," he murmured.

oOo

Ruffnut landed in the room next to Leo's and sneaked along the corridor into the room where the man was lying curled on his side, his eyes closed and grey-streaked hair flopped across his scarred face. She paused at the door and stared at the man: they had only known him for a couple of years and very intermittently at that, but he was a good man and the twins had been willing to sacrifice their neutrality for him. Hel, they were both holding pistols and shotguns when Ryder had rode into town…

…and neither of the twins liked the look of the Marshals or the army. As far as the twins were concerned, just about everything had ended fine…except that Alvin and his evil bandit brother Drago Darkheart were on the way to raze Berk to the ground. Yet somehow, with Ryder and his Night Fury, there had been hope. The soldiers just seemed to suck that hope away.

"Are you going to stand there all day, Rebekah, or are you going to do something crazy?" Leo asked gruffly, not opening his eyes. Ruff started.

"Uncle Hopalong-you were stone asleep!" she protested. "How in Loki's name did you actually know I was here? And NO ONE calls me Rebekah!"

"I recall when you and Tyree were born," Leo murmured, a small smile lifting his lips. "I know Val was incredibly excited…she was having problems having a child and had lost a few…and then your mother, Ylva, had twins…just as my mother did. Val was very close to your mother until she was taken and helped with you two…and Ylva helped her a lot when she had Hiccup. She was sick for a long time and Hiccup, though small, was determined and very strong. He never sickened, never gave up…always kept going…"

"Yeah, well he doesn't seem to have changed any since he returned," Ruff admitted with a grin. Leo finally opened his eyes and his normal green eye sparkled slightly with amusement.

"Reminds me of me…though he's far more sarcastic," he admitted and carefully pushed his arms into the bed to lever his battered shape up to a pained sitting position. He grimaced and gave a slight hiss of pain. "I guess I'm not getting any rest…whassup?"

"Stoick sent for Marshals to arrest the Berserkers…" she reported.

"Only ten years too late," Leo sighed, painfully sliding his legs over the side of the bed. He grimaced and clutched at his side as he pulled his stitches. "And his timing stinks. Hiccup is no saint…he's killed a couple of dozen men since he's been at Berk…and while I guess most of them could be justified, he's still a killer…and lawmen don't like that…"

"Actually, I'm more worried about the army guys…"Ruff admitted, walking to the window and peering through at the troop, who were still watering their Nadders. Leo lifted his head.

"Army guys, Rebekah?" he asked pointedly, grimacing as he shimmied to the edge of the bed, his prosthetic slowly finding the ground.

"Fifth Cavalry has come in search of the guys Dagur murdered to get the Night Fury…and they want the Night Fury…" Ruff scowled. "Um…you know Ryder's dragon?" Leo groaned.

"Toothless," he sighed. "They are bonded…already a very solid bond." He frowned. "It's past the point where it could be broken. Toothless is his…" Ruff frowned.

"Not sure the army guys know that…" she admitted as steps closed and Leo grimaced as the Marshals and the Major walked into the room, lifting his head and staring up at the men towering over him. His battered face adopted a calm expression as Ruff backed up a step. "Sirs? Can I help you?" They loomed over him.

"Marshals Larson, Olson and Arvidson," Larson began. "This is Major Finn Haagen of the 5th Troop of the 19th Nadder Cavalry. We believe we have some questions for you, Mister…" Leo sighed.

"Leo Gudmundir," he said roughly. "This is Rebekah Thorston, a friend. Um…what are you asking about? It had better be about the kidnapping and murder of my sister and her infant son, about the man who tortured me and left me to die in a Whispering Death infested mine and who is coming back here to raze Berk to the ground…"

"Where is the Night Fury?" Major Haagen growled.

"One track mind," Ruff muttered.

"Why do you want it?" Leo asked pointedly, blinking as a wave of dizziness broke over him. The Major frowned as Ruff took a pace forward and grasped his shoulder. He gave a small nod.

"Night Furies are so rare and so powerful the army has decided they are a national resource and all should be tendered to us immediately," he growled. Leo frowned.

"Um…I think Federal Law states that any bonded dragon is the property of his bonded human and that takes priority over any other claim," he murmured.

"The army's claim…"

"Cannot supersede that," Leo said more firmly.

"But…how would a ragamuffin like you…?" Marshal Olson sneered.

"Trained Dragon Master," Leo said quietly. "So I ask again-why do you really want the Night Fury? None have been seen for over fifty years and there certainly isn't a breeding pair. A bonded dragon won't serve you and will escape to his rider. What's your agenda, Major?" The man gaped in shock, his eyes wide: this half-blinded and very battered man had punctured his pretensions in one deliberate lunge.

"Hybrids," he managed at last as Leo and Ruff shared a look. "You are correct…we can't wait to find another Night Fury…but Colonel Halvard telegraphed that he had caught a male and thus he provides opportunities for cross-breeding…"

"Assuming hybrids are viable," Leo murmured.

"Our husbandry and blood-stock experts believe they are and have identified the most promising hybridisations for optimal aggression and preservation of Night Fury characteristics and speed, accuracy and firepower," the Major said smugly.

"What are you talking about?" Larson asked, scowling.

"Deadly Furies and Nightmare Furies," Haagen smirked. "Deadly Nadder and Monstrous Nightmare hybrids…" Ruff stared at him in surprise.

"Assuming Toothless finds any of them attractive," she commented. "I mean…he could just be…like bleurgh!" All eyes turned to her.

"Toothless?" Olson asked sharply. "You have seen the beast?" Leo groaned and face-palmed as Ruff scowled in anger at the tone-and at herself.

"Everyone here has!" she retorted. "He's Ryder's bonded dragon!"

"Ryder!" Larsson snapped. "Every time something has happened in this town, it seems to be that killer, _Ryder_. Where is he?" Leo stared at them and shook his head.

"Y'know, getting a lot of deja vu right about now…" he murmured as Arvidson and Olson grabbed his arms and hauled him up.

"Hey!" Ruff protested as she was shoved aside. "He's injured! The Berserkers really hurt him to get him to give up Ryder…"

"So you know where he is?" Larsson growled. Leo shook his head.

"I knew where he _was_ ," he breathed, his green gaze defiant, promising non-cooperation. The Marshal jerked his head and Leo was dragged out of the room.

"Take him to the Sheriff's office," Larsson commanded. "I'm sure he'll be happy to help us find out where that murderer is hiding…"

"Here we go again…" Leo murmured.

oOo

Astrid had concluded as she watched Ryder that he was a natural dragon wrangler…and that he was never happier than when he was working with the beasts. He had moved effortlessly through the frightened and hostile dragons, calming and soothing them, delivering water and far more generous meals than she had every witnessed Dagur's men giving them. A couple of dragons were extremely hostile and Toothless-who had followed Ryder around the whole time, unwilling to let the man out of his sight-had stepped in and roared challengingly at the recalcitrant lizards. Laughing, Ryder had rested his hand on the dragon's flattened head and tried to calm the irate dragon down.

"Easy, bud," he murmured. "They're just scared and haven't been treated well…just like you." Toothless gave a small warble, rubbing against the man's lean body firmly. "Yeah, bud-love you too," he murmured, smiling. In that moment, Astrid froze, seeing him unguarded with his dragon: his face was completely open and lit with a smile, his emerald eyes shining with happiness, his auburn hair casually tousled and stubble outlining his sharp jaw. For a second, his gaze flicked up and she felt herself smiling back at his utterly relaxed and happy expression…

"Dude!" Tuff's words broke the spell and Ryder and Astrid snapped round to face the male twin, who was crouching under a bench.

"What are you doing down there?" Ryder asked incredulously, the faintest growl of irritation in his voice.

"Get out of there!" Astrid added irritably. Tuff peered up.

"Army!" he said in a strangled whisper. Ryder rolled his green eyes.

"For the love of…" he muttered and peered upwards. "Not giving me much of a break, are you?"

"Hiccup-is that a problem?" Astrid asked, frowning. The gunslinger gave a self-conscious shrug.

"Considering I am kind of a witness to Dagur, Eret and their men gunning down the whole of the troop who captured Toothless using a Gatling gun and leaving their bodies to rot…it may be," he admitted. Her eyes popped wide and he lurched forward, grasping her upper arms gently and staring into her eyes. "I got the twins to give them all decent burials!" he said quickly. "But I have the Night Fury and I can guarantee they will want him…"

"But he's yours," she protested. "I thought a bond superseded all other claims…"

"Um…it does…but when you think about it, there is a way to deal with that," he said, looking concerned. Tuff poked his head out.

"Yeah…" he said and made a slicing motion across his neck. Ryder rolled his eyes and Astrid looked at him in concern, grasping his hand. She moved closer to him, staring gently up into his eyes.

"Shouldn't you just go?" she murmured, pressing closer to him. Her fingers twined with his and he leaned closer. "I-I love you and I don't want you to leave…but if it's safer…I-I don't want anything to happen to you…"

"Astrid, I can't leave you and Leo and Gobber and the rest," he murmured. "I know Toothless is a powerful dragon…and you need everything you can get to protect you from Alvin and his allies." He paused and lifted her chin, wrapping an arm around her. "And if I run now, Milady, they'll always be after me. I have to stand up for what is mine…and by whatever measure you have, Toothless is _my_ bonded dragon."

"Dude-from what I've seen, I doubt they care-especially that Major," Tuff pointed out from under bench.

"Tuff-why are you still under there?" Ryder asked him pointedly.

"Being stealthy, dude!" the male twin assured him with a grin. Ryder paused then turned to Astrid and silently asked permission, before leaning into a kiss. She kissed him back, tentative at first but more confident as he gently raised his hands to run through her hair, his thumbs ghosting across her cheeks. Finally, he pulled away as Toothless's ear flaps suddenly pricked up and a growl rumbled through his chest. He scowled at the wreckage of the wall and gates.

"Stay calm," he murmured and shooed the Night Fury back as the Marshals and the Major walked into the compound. He turned to the nearest cage and gentled the scared Zippleback within. Astrid turned to the men and folded her arms.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" she asked firmly, her eyes cool. She saw their eyes sweep over the compound, the caged dragons, the wreckage and the tall, lean shape of her assistant.

"And you are…?" Larsson asked.

"Astrid Hofferson," she told him shortly. "I own this compound and everything within it!" He scoffed at her then pointed at Ryder.

"And him?" Olson asked. "He fits the description of a murderer we're seeking…" Ryder's head snapped up and his emerald eyes looked briefly concerned.

"I'm just her head wrangler and stockman," he told them calmly. "My name is Hiccup Gudmundir." The Marshals frowned.

"As in Leo?" the Major asked. "That one-eyed, one-legged vagrant…" Hiccup's fists clenched, his eyes glittering with anger at the cruel assessment of the brave and loyal man.

"My Uncle," he said honestly. "You've seen him?" Marshal Larson grinned.

"Yeah…he's real stubborn," he commented, his big face folded in a nasty smile. Astrid flicked a glance at Hiccup, who turned slowly to face the men, his eyes arctic.

"What did you do to him?" he asked coldly. Arvidson smiled.

"Just asked him a few questions-and when he wouldn't answer, we locked him in the jail…"

"WHAT?" Ryder turned and stared past them. "He should be in the healer's, not a cell!"

"We are looking for the killer, Ryder," Larsson snapped, his eyes running over the lean shape of the gunslinger, noting the pistol comfortably slung over his left hip, the fading bruising and scarring on the back of his hand. The auburn-haired man snapped his head round and narrowed his emerald eyes.

"As you know, we are also looking for the stolen Night Fury," the Major began and Astrid stepped forward, her eyes hard.

"I believe the Night Fury was caught from the wild and found again in the wild after the troop left here," she said coldly. "He was recaptured by Dagur B'serk and registered in his name via the National and State Dragon Registries. He is now my possessions since I repossessed these premises and all their contents in recompense for delinquent rent for some years. And the dragon has bonded with my wrangler."

All eyes turned to the stiff shape of Ryder as the Major lurched forward.

"Where is _MY_ dragon?" he growled. The gunslinger whistled through his teeth and Toothless emerged, his back arched, back-ridge raised and pupils narrowed, a fierce growl vibrating through him. Ryder stuck his hand out and the dragon walked up and pressed his head up against the hand, going silent but still baring his teeth at the man.

"I think he's my dragon," Ryder said firmly. "We are a bonded pair…and that means your claim is superseded…" Then the Major pulled his gun and pointed it straight at Ryder's head, a nasty smile on his face.

"We can sort that out," he threatened. Astrid's eyes widened and she stared at the Marshals as Tuff popped his head out.

"Told you, dude!" he smirked.

"You can't let him threaten Hiccup!" she protested to the State Marshals. "He's the bonded rider of that dragon and it is HIS! I thought you were supposed to be lawmen!"

"Oh, we are, little lady!" Arvidson sneered, grabbing her. Immediately Toothless roared and leapt on the Major as the Marshals tugged Astrid aside and Ryder reached for his gun. A click sounded.

"I think you should unbuckle the belt now…before something happens to this little lady," Arvidson snarled, his gun digging into Astrid's neck, the hammer cocked. "And get that reptile under control…or you can look for a new boss!" Green eyes flicked to the ashen Astrid and he forced himself to smile, carefully unbuckling his gun-belt and letting it drop to the ground. He waved his hand and Toothless glanced at him…then fattened his ear-flaps and gave a small croon. Astrid's eyes swum with tears and she shook her head slightly.

"Hiccup…no…" she murmured. Arvidson pressed the muzzle of his pistol harder into her neck.

"It'll be okay," he assured her calmly as Toothless backed away at his command and sat quietly behind the man.

"Ryder-you're under arrest for dragon rustling, the murder of the twenty-two soldiers of the 1st Troop of the 19th Nadder Cavalry and twenty civilians!" Larsson announced, his cold eyes narrowed with triumph. He slowly raised his hands and gave a lazy grin as the Marshals all levelled their guns at him.

"I don't suppose I could claim mistaken identity?" he suggested. "There may well be several other tall, skinny sarcastic red-headed gunslingers in this territory…" He saw the large shape of Stoick arrived at the compound as Larsson grabbed his hands and cuffed them behind his back. The Sheriff looked stricken.

"Son…" he breathed.

"It's okay," said Ryder. "I'll come quietly…"

 **A/N: Thanks to ShadowSpirt020 for inventing the concept, name and design of Deadly Furies!**


	24. Whose Dragon?

**Twenty-Four: Whose Dragon?**

The steady sounds of hammering were interspersed with bickering and the sounds of things being thrown. Ryder peered through the tiny barred window and watched the twins 'supervising' the troop of soldiers build a pretty sturdy looking gallows stack bang in the centre of the Plaza. It was something that Berk had never previously needed-before the Berserkers and Outcasts, the people of Berk had been ornery and taciturn but never really criminal and since…well, any execution tended to involve gunning someone down in the Plaza. He supposed he should be honoured they were going to the trouble to build it just to hang him but really, it didn't feel like much of privilege.

"Not sure…my sister…would approve…" Leo muttered from his bed in the adjacent cell.

He had been curled up, unresponsive, when Ryder was brought in and the gunslinger had been infuriated by the sight of fresh blood on his battered face. He was certain that the Marshals had questioned Leo and that had gotten a bit…physical. Crouching by the bars and calling worriedly to his Uncle, Ryder had promised he would make them pay: after all, the men were clearly bastards-they'd held Astrid at gunpoint if he needed any other proof. When Leo had finally stirred, the man had cracked open his eyes and groaned. "What is it that you always end up found?" he groaned. Ryder grinned.

"Couldn't let Astrid get shot by those Marshals," he admitted. Leo stiffened.

"They threatened her?" he rasped, lifting his head. Ryder sighed.

"Yeah…after Toothless tried to eat the Major," he admitted and Leo gave a small smile.

"They only eat fish," he murmured.

"He didn't seem to know that," he revealed and sighed, sitting on the floor by the bars, leaning against them. "Mind you, the Colonel with the last troop was crooked and tried to sell Toothless to Eret for a huge chest of gold. Dagur gunned them down…Gobber and I followed them when they sneaked out and we watched the whole thing. Dagur and his men got away with the dragon and we came back and borrowed two of the men to fleece the gangs…and I got the twins to bury them."

"You paid?" Leo asked softly. There was a small pause. Ryder nodded.

"Um…yeah…" he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Slightly defeated the object of trying to get as much money as possible out of the gangs…" Leo painfully sat up and stared at his nephew.

"Hmm…your mother would have been proud of you," he admitted. "Val was a decent woman who would never have abandoned men to rot or be eaten by coyotes or Whispering Deaths…" Then Ryder pressed his head back against the bars, turning away from the older man.

"You know, I don't remember _anything_ about Mom?" he asked softly. "I was taken from her when I was so young and when Dad…Espen…deigned to answer my questions, he said she had died and that was it. He never told me anything…I guess because he didn't _know_ anything…" Leo sighed.

"I'm sorry," he apologised. "I should've found you…but I was out of it for some months…and I couldn't find the trail when I was finally together enough to leave Gothi's…" Ryder turned to stare at the man and shook his head. The inflection reminded him how badly hurt the man had been. It would have been many long months before Leo's mind and body would have been strong enough to seek for the fugitive kidnapper…he really hadn't stood a chance.

"What's done is done," he murmured and he heard the man slump back on the bed.

"But that doesn't make it right…" he groaned.

And it wasn't right now as the soldiers-hindered by the twins-rapidly assembled the gallows in the Plaza. Ryder had done some-rather a lot-of pretty damning things in his life, though only since his wife was raped and murdered and all in his quest to find the men who had killed her. And against all odds, they were all dead, bothering Helheim not Berk. And even more improbably, he had found himself some family, a friend or so…a unique bonded dragon…and Astrid. He closed his eyes. He had finally come out of the hellish nightmare following Heather's murder…and now…he was going to die just as he had found happiness…and love.

"You ready, _boy_?" Marshal Larson sneered as he sauntered into the cells. Ryder folded his arms across his chest and cast a bored look at the man.

"For what?" he snapped back.

"You're gonna answer to a jury of men from this town," Larsson sneered. "Murder-murder-murder-murder…well, you get the idea. And of course, the murder of a troop of soldiers and theft of government property, namely one Night Fury."

"Toothless is mine!" Ryder growled. "He is my bonded dragon!"

"Proceeds of crime," Larson sneered. "Only yours because you murdered those soldiers…" Ryder's fists clenched but Leo shifted his body painfully on his bunk and glared at the lawman.

"Doesn't sound as if you've got much of an open mind about what happened," he noted gruffly. "Have you even talked to the witnesses? Or inspected the bodies?" Larson stared at him contemptuously.

"Silence, vagrant!" he sneered. Ryder stiffened. "And you, murderer-you're damned lucky. We've gonna give you a fair trial…and then a really first class hanging!"

oOo

Astrid strode across the town, her eyes glittering with fury. She shoved the door of the Dragon Master's shop open, marched into the gloomy space and grabbed Fishlegs by the tunic.

"I need your help," she growled. His blue eyes popped wide and he almost knocked his bowler hat off as he flinched.

"Ma'am?" he squeaked.

"Don't you dare 'Ma'am' me!" she snapped. "Sit!" He couldn't obey quickly enough, almost knocking his chair over and cringing back into the seat.

"How can I help you?" he asked her, his voice still an octave higher than usual. She glared at him.

"You're a Dragon Master," she said sternly. He nodded urgently. "I have a compound full of dragons…and one has been taken that is bonded to my chief stockman and wrangler."

"Hiccup," Fishlegs blurted out. She stared at him and her jaw almost hit the floor.

"What..?" she gaped.

"Hiccup," Fishlegs said with more confidence. "He is the image of Leo Gudmundir, the Sheriff's brother when he was younger…twenty years ago, when the baby was taken. There are enough clues…he is the Sheriff's son!" Astrid blinked.

"Of course he is!" she spat. "But how the Hel did you find out?" The large man gave a shy but satisfied smile.

"I watch, I listen. I research…" he told her with a hint of smugness. "And that older man…was he…Leo?" She nodded.

"Then you are exactly the man we need," she said. "You know all the law about Dragon ownership and bonding. They can't hang Hiccup for stealing Toothless if the dragon is his anyway."

"Hmm…you may need more than that," Fishlegs noted. "I gather they're accusing him of killing everyone…from Baldr to old Mother Silje who died last winter from tuberculosis!" She folded her arms over her chest and gave a triumphant smile.

"Good. You're hired!" she said. "You're their defence attorney!"

"WHAT?" he shrieked. "I-I-I have no training at all…"

"You're about the smartest person in Berk," Astrid told him firmly and her azure eyes smiled. "I believe that you wouldn't let the only Night Fury seen for fifty years be stolen by the army from its bonded rider and enslaved for breeding with gods know what!"

"I-I…"

"And I reckon you could get Leo to help you," she added. "I think he did the Dragon Master training…which is how he survived, by the way. He trained a freaking _Whispering Death_ enough so it let him live!"

"He-he did?"

"And I sure he would be delighted to tell you everything he's picked up over the years…that and of course everything about his Flightmare…"

"Starlight…" Fishlegs murmured and his blue eyes grew rounder. He met her smug gaze and nodded.

"Okay-I'll do it!" he said. "If only because it was very obvious that no matter his faults-and he did ruthlessly gun down four men who scared his dragon halfway to death when it was well on the way anyway-he showed he would do anything to try to save a dying beast that was his friend. I saw him with the dragon…and he really loved it. He deserves his chance because I doubt the Night fury could find a better bonded Rider."

Astrid found herself blinking at the simple assessment of the man she had fallen in love with and nodded. She gave a determined smile, her lips pressed together as she controlled herself.

"Okay-so what do we do next?" she asked. Fishlegs rose, grabbed a notebook and pencil.

"We start by talking to his friends…"

oOo

The Berk Courthouse was packed with practically everyone in town as the jury fidgeted, elbowed each other and grumbled that it was a good day for farming. Marshal Larson stared at them from his seat presiding over the court as acting judge and rolled this eyes. The Sheriff had called for them and though he had explained the two gangs were fled, they had decided to pursue the troublesome gunslinger Ryder anyway. It should've been a simple slam-dunk…except everyone in the town seemed to have a soft spot for the man. And the jury…

Twelve bulky men were squeezed into a jury box designed for twelve average sized men…but there was hardly a man in Berk of normal proportions. Larson decided the town could probably do with a little less feeding…but he was stuck with them. And the men who had come forward…the owner of the hostel, Gobber with his two missing limbs; the crazy male undertaker Tuffnut; the town drunk, Olaf; four men called Sven; a very short hairy man named Mulch; a couple of dirt farmers, Hoark and Ack; a big storekeeper called Lars and a very short old woman with a staff who was introduced as Gothi, the Town Elder…and the constitution of Berk, irrespective of everything else meant Larson had to include her in the jury. The Marshall began to rub his temples, feeling a headache start.

He stared over the room, seeing the Sheriff sitting bolt upright in the front row, along with the female undertaker-who had been furious that women were not allowed on the jury (except Gothi)-and Ryder's female boss, Astrid Hofferson. At her side, a fidgety twelve year old boy with jet hair and grey eyes was nudging her and whispering loudly. At the table for the defendant, the local Dragon Master, Fishlegs Ingerman, had assumed the role of defence attorney. He had demanded that Leo Gudmundir be let out to assist him but the man had been imprisoned until the start of the trial: Larson wasn't having any more wild cards-and he was suspecting that the army Major Haagen wasn't being honest. The man wanted the Night Fury in defiance of all legality…and the Marshal wanted to know what his ulterior motive was. Flicking his his eyes over to his fellow Marshals, Olson and Arvidson, he felt little comfort. Both were tough, hard and uncompromising and wanted to hang the gunfighter…irrespective of the actual evidence…

"Fetch the prisoner!" he commanded.

oOo

Ryder was brought in and stood at the defence table, cuffs tight around his wrist. Leo was escorted in as well, also cuffed and shoved into a seat by Fishlegs. The older man stared up at his nephew as Marshal Larsson flicked his cold gaze across the court.

"The Court of the town of Berk is in session, Marshal Per Larson presiding," he announced. "We are here to try the man known as Ryder for multiple murders including the whole of the the First Troop of the 19th Nadder Cavalry and the theft of government property: to whit, one Night Fury dragon."

"Objection!" Fishlegs announced.

"You can't object!" Larson snapped. "I haven't said anything except the stated purpose of the trial!"

"Withdrawn!"

"Are you taking the…?" Arvidson growled.

"Just practising!" Fishlegs said cheerfully. Leo half covered his mouth to hide his smile. Fishlegs had visited him in the jail when his request for Leo's release had been denied and the younger Dragon Master had proposed the plan, realising none of the Marshals had much control over their tempers.

"Defendant-confirm your identity!" Larson commanded and Ryder stared up at him, green eyes cool and glittering with anger.

"My name is Hiccup Gudmundir Haddock," he announced calmly. There was a pause for about a second…and then all pandemonium broke out again. The jury were all in great excitement-except Gobber, who just stared at the young gunslinger and inspected the lean shape, allowing himself to recognise the image of his friend of twenty years earlier. His eyes drifted to Leo and the man offered the faintest of smiles…and nodded. But the most shocked was Stoick…who finally stared at the lean shape, the tousled auburn hair the exact colour of his lost wife, the brilliant emerald eyes flicking to look back at his friends, his girl…and briefly the man he had tacitly admitted was his real father. The Sheriff swallowed and his eyes widened…as Larson motioned for Ryder-Hiccup-to sit.

"Actually, we need to hear the evidence against my client!" Fishlegs announced officiously.

"I was just getting to that!" Larson snapped. He gave the Dragon Master a fierce glare but Fishlegs merely replied with a happy wave.

"Um, I thought the Judge wasn't allowed to be prosecutor as well," he said, smiling happily. "Federal and State law states there must be a separate prosecutor…"

"Will you stop pointing things out!" Larson snapped.

"Actually, that's my function!" Fishlegs piped up.

"Okay-I'll do the Prosecution!" Marshal Olson snapped. "He is accused of several murders…"

"Names…" Fishlegs insisted.

"The killing of the whole Berserker gang…"

"Who had ambushed, beat and tortured him, torn the town apart of get to him to kill him and captured and tortured his Uncle in the middle of town to get him to give Ryder-Hiccup-up!"

"If yer gonna use that as evidence we'll acquit him now!" Gobber announced.

"Yeah!" They've been terrorising us for years!" two of the Svens agreed.

"Yeah-they really hurt Uncle Hopalong and if Ryder hadn't got in, we would've gone after them!" Tuff added.

"Shut. Up. _Now_!" Larson shouted.

"And the ambush and murder of the First Troop of the 19th Nadder Cavalry and the theft of a Night Fury…"

"They were killed by Dagur when they went tae try tae sell the dragon tae the Dragon Hunters," Gobber piped up cheerily, nodding to his fellow jurors. "Dagur gunned them down hi'self then Eret and his men took the dragon back tae their compound! I know the laddie bonded tae him there!"

"Good enough for us!" Mulch said happily.

"Yeah-we all agree!" Hoark announced.

"Worksh for me!" Drunken Olaf slurred, waving happily and chugging from his flask of mead.

"RY-der! RY-der! RY-der!" the crowd began to chant, egged on by Astrid and Gustav. Hiccup looked at his Uncle.

"Is this supposed to happen?" he asked Leo. Fishlegs shook his head.

"No one will convict you of killing Outcasts, Berserkers or Snotlout," he said. "C'mon-this is Berk! We all know what they were like! But the fight is about who the Night Fury belongs to…"

"Me," Hiccup growled, his emerald eyes filled with concern. "I-I have never felt anything like the bond I have with Toothless…not even with Red…" Leo glanced across and gently rested his bandaged left hand on the gunslinger's shoulder.

"Red…?"

"Redwing-a Monstrous Nightmare who saved my life as I was about to be shot dead by the trappers who beat me to a pulp then raped and murdered my wife," Hiccup murmured, his voice softer. Stoick inched closer, catching the words and feeling his heart jolt. It seemed the Gods were determined that both father and son suffered the same disasters… He stole a glance at Astrid-the girl his son seemed to be with now-and swore nothing would happen her while he breathed.

"He did everything he could to save him…but he was old and injured," Fishlegs murmured. "He even got Fireworm gel-Gods alone knew how-but it was too late. The dragon passed on peacefully…"

"And when Toothless was still in the cage with the army when they stayed the night at the Berserker Compound, he went to see the poor thing," Astrid added, leaning forward. ""He was muzzled and hadn't been fed or watered. Toothless was pretty grumpy…"

"Almost bit my hand off…at first…until he realised I was as alone as he was and that I meant him no harm," Hiccup commented.

"It was really cute the way he sat next to Hiccup and pressed his nose into his hand," Astrid added. "I heard him apologise that he couldn't let the dragon out…because the soldiers would kill him…but he gave that creature hope and friendship… and when Toothless was brought back after Dagur murdered the soldiers and stole him…they bonded."

"And how…?" Hiccup asked, turning to face her. She smiled.

"You knew I watched you, babe," she murmured.

"Yeah…who doesn't love a beautiful woman watching his every move?" he asked. She blushed.

"Every day you spent time with Toothless, I watched you," she said with a grin. "And I know Dagur wanted to kill him and skin him for his collection of rare dragons…"

"Ah-hem!" Marshal Olson growled, standing by them and folding his arms impatiently. "If you don't mind…"

"Hey-we were just enjoying that!" Mulch protested.

"They seem to be really sweet," one of the Svens added.

"Aye," another agreed, fist-bumping the first Sven. Tuff made a vomiting noise and Gothi whacked him in the head with her staff. Marshal Larson rubbed his temples: his head was pounding now.

"That Night Fury is MINE!" Major Haagen roared, leaping to his feet.

"Heard that before," Hiccup commented.

"Everyone has!" Stoick growled, standing. "Dagur screamed it in front of the whole town as soon as the army arrived with it…and he stole the dragon after killing the soldiers who were so craven they tried to sell it to Trappers! This man bonded with a creature that was being prepared to be slaughtered. He saved that dragon…"

"…and it saved him from Dagur when the man captured him after he rescued Astrid from Alvin's adopted son, Snotlout, who had kidnapped her to rape her…" Leo added, breathing hard.

"Does anyone here actually know how a court case is supposed to work?" Larson growled.

"This is Berk!" Stoick said, walking forward, his booming voice filled with confidence. "We still do things the Viking way here!"

"Yeah…one long argument," Leo grumbled.

"You may be a thousand years out of date!" Marshal Arvidson commented from the doorway.

"Not under Berk law!" Stoick spoke up gruffly. Gothi stood up and whacked Gobber who yelped. Then she scratched a series of symbols on the courtroom floor. Gobber peered at them and frowned.

"I dinnae think he'll like that," he commented. She whacked him again. "Ow, yer old baggage! I'll tell him!"

"Tell him what?" Larson said in a pained voice from the judge's bench. He hammered his gavel without much hope anyone would pay attention to him because the jury were all discussing amongst themselves at the top of their voices and the audience were in uproar. Haagen was fingering the butt of his pistol in a worrying manner as Hiccup leaned closer to Leo.

"Mebbe we can solve this in the old Berk way…" Gobber began.

"And just what is that?" Larson groaned.

"Let the dragon choose…" Gobber explained then paused. "There, yer old witch. I told yer he'd hate it!"

"But I have a cast iron claim!" the Major shouted.

"Actually not," Fishlegs said. "I telegraphed the Federal Dragon Registry and checked. The Government edict stated that ' _wild_ Night Furies represent a vital national resource'. But that Night Fury is not wild. He is bonded with that man-Ryder…sorry, Hiccup Haddock."

The young gunslinger blinked in shock at the name. It was a family name he had never used, never heard of until he arrived in Berk…yet it was his birthright. His eyes flicked to Leo at his side and the man nodded so the younger man lifted his head and stared at the Sheriff. The man was stock-still, his chest puffed out and fists clenched. He was breathing hard in anger at the trial.

"Dragon Registration Laws take primacy over all subsequent declarations," Leo added. "This pair are bonded. That dragon is not wild…so your claim is invalid."

"And what would you know, vagrant?" the Major sneered.

"He's a trained Dragon Master!" Fishlegs growled. "As am I!" The Major glared, then scribbled a few words on a scrap of paper before handing it to his corporal. The man rushed off immediately.

"He doesn't own the dragon," Major Haagen sneered, rising, his wavy chestnut hair dishevelled from where he had removed his hat. "And it's wild in the law without a valid registration, without an owner…" His hand toyed with his small goatee as he scanned the court room.

"No, that would be me," Astrid volunteered. "With the Sheriff and Fishlegs' help, I have assumed ownership of all the dragons in the former Berserker Compound. Including Toothless!"

"You know, I like your way!" the Major said suddenly. "I have asked my man to bring the dragon…" Alarmed, Fishlegs and Hiccup shared a glance: neither believed the man wanted to comply because Toothless would always come to his rider…unless he was planning something… Leo's asymmetrical gaze was locked on the Major's face and he saw him smirk.

"Not in my courtroom," Larson growled, slamming gavel down again. "Plaza! Everyone go there and we will decide…"

There was a movement like a tide as the entire audience rose and walked out, talking at the to of their voices. The jury sped after them…except Gobber. He slowed down to walk alongside Stoick, matching his pace with the big Sheriff. "He's stubborn like ye, yer know," he murmured.

"He's suffered like I did…but there was no one to help," Stoick replied softly, pausing to see Astrid and her brother wait until the two Marshals stood by Hiccup and forced him up, walking sternly alongside. "He seems to have found a girl, a dragon and some reason to stay…maybe…there is a way…perhaps I could at least be a friend…"

"That's the spirit," Gobber said with mad cheerfulness, clapping his friend across the back with his normal hand. "I'm sure he'll forget everything and be happy tae see ye, Stoick!" Fishlegs made to follow but Leo grabbed his arm.

"Fish…I don't have a good feeling about this," the older man said softly. "The Major was too quick to accept. He was smiling…" The two men shared a look and Fishlegs hauled him up.

"Hurry…" the younger Dragon Master urged him.

"GO!" Leo shouted, shoving him away. "You have to stop it. He's sabotaged the decision…"

The audience had formed a relatively neat crowd to one side of the Plaza with the jury at one side and the Marshals at the other. The sun was beating down but the wind was gritty and cool and dust was swirling around. The Major was standing, smug and sneering as he faced Hiccup, who stood with the gallows at his back, his wrists still shackled. The officer gave a nasty smile.

"You get the dragon to come to you, to recognise you as a friend, and I will drop the charges," he said. "But if he doesn't, I hang you for dragon theft!" Hiccup nodded and the Marshals all nodded as well.

"Bring the dragon out!" Larson commanded and four men wrestled the Night Fury forward, muzzled and resisting. Hiccup stared and the crowd gasped as the muzzle was removed.

Toothless was growling.

Emerald green eyes widening, the lanky gunslinger took a tiny pace forward. "Hey, it's me-your old pal, Hiccup," he said softly. He held his hands in front of his body, palms forward in an appeasing gesture. Toothless's growl increased in volume. "What is it, bud?" he asked softly.

Fishlegs pushed through the throng and saw the black shape slowly advance on the lean prisoner, the auburn hair ruffled by the breeze. The dragon was growling, his eyes tightly slitted and back arched in hostility. The dragon's mouth was open and giving a faintly red glow.

 _Red?_

Hiccup inched forward, his green gaze locked onto the dragon. His stomach was dancing in anxiety, the bubbling wrongness unsettling him totally. Something had upset Toothless…and the way the dragon was behaving suggested he didn't recognise him. And his life literally depended on getting the dragon to acknowledge him. "Buddy…it's me," he said again softly. Toothless advanced again-and then roared.

"Get him out of there!" Astrid shouted as a red glow filled the dragon's throat and then fired wildly at Hiccup, missing him and blowing half the roof off of Lars' General Store.

"Toothless! _Bad dragon!_ Now CUT IT OUT!" Hiccup shouted.

And then the dragon pounced…

oOo

 **A/N: No prize but kudos if you can tell me where Larson's line to Hiccup about the quality of his trial and hanging comes from…**


	25. Condemned

**A/N: Well done to everyone who said "Silverado'. (The line was by Cobb-a bad guy and corrupt lawman, of course!)**

 **Twenty-Five: Condemned.**

Hiccup had no time to react as Toothless knocked him down, heavy paws slamming his shoulders into the rock-hard dirt of the Plaza. He stared up, green eyes widening as the demon glared down on him. This wasn't his friend, his bonded dragon…this was a ferocious wild animal that saw nothing but an enemy, nothing but another animal. Toothless opened his maw and his throat glowed red, though Hiccup could smell the sharp scent of plasma building up.

 _Why was it red?_

But it didn't matter-even though Toothless, a Night Fury which was famed for never missing but had missed hopelessly when he had just fired -because this really truly was point blank range. He felt the heat coming off the dragon in waves, felt the vibrating growl through the paws and the claws which had dug painfully into his shoulders.

"Toothless…bud…" he said gently. "Please…if you do this, when whatever they've done to you wears off, you will feel so awful…and I don't wanna do that to you…" The glow intensified. "Please…you're my best friend…my best friend…" he begged.

Toothless's maw widened and the glow was blinding. Hiccup reached his hands up to shield his face and his closed his eyes, not wanting to see the flash as his dragon killed him…

…and then the pressure suddenly vanished as a squawk sounded along with a thud and a roar. Hiccup felt a whoosh of something swishing over his head and he glanced up to see the blue spiny tail of Stormfly, which she had used to slam the Night Fury off the helpless man. Spines raised, neck frill raised, she was darting from side to side, keeping her body between the enraged Toothless and the man. She was almost as quick and agile as the Night Fury and she was determined to protect Hiccup…as her Rider had asked her to do…even though she had to fight her friend to do so…

Hiccup half-sat up and watched, breathing hard. Toothless was shaking his head, staggering and roaring, blasting scarlet plasma blasts randomly. Stormfly cawed, dodging the poorly-aimed blasts and mirroring the Night Fury's moves. But Toothless tripped over then spun around, giving a mournful wail. And though his head was screaming that the dragon was dangerous, out of control and completely hostile, the man could tell that Toothless was confused, frightened and ill. He scrambled to his knees and stretched his hands out once more.

"Toothless?" he murmured…and the Night Fury focussed on him once more, eyes locking on the blurred, distorted shape. Toothless reared up, dodging past Stormfly and pouncing at Hiccup once more…and then he roared. A dart appeared in the black hide of the dragon and Hiccup's head snapped round in shock as Fishlegs raised the blowpipe to his lips and exhaled forcefully, sending another dart into the dragon. Toothless gave a drunken roar, staggered and finally collapsed. His face stricken, the Dragon Master lowered the blowpipe as Hiccup crawled to the Night Fury, finally resting his trembling hands on the unconscious beast.

"Oh bud," he murmured. "What has happened to you? What did they do…?"

"Nothing!" the Major sneered. "The dragon showed its true colours…and you are not bonded. No bonded rider would be attacked by his dragon. That creature did not recognise you, did not respond to you, did not obey you. You failed!"

A cold shiver ran down Hiccup's spine as he raised his head in shock. "Wh-what?"

"The dragon didn't come to you, didn't recognise you at all," Arvidson said cheerfully, grabbing Hiccup's shoulder and hauling him to his feet.

"And by the agreement you had…we're going to hang you for dragon rustling!"

"No!" Hiccup protested. "No-that wasn't Toothless. That wasn't my bud…"

"There is only one Night Fury!" Larson sneered. "How can that not be him?"

"Well, obviously physically it's him…but that wasn't _Toothless_ …" Hiccup tried to explain, his face desperate. "He wasn't behaving normally…"

"He looked like a perfectly normal wild beast…" Larson told him coldly and Fishlegs started. He stared to the door of the court to see the shape of Leo slowly limping out. His eyes flicked up-he had heard the words as well and he frowned.

"And in that case, if he's wild, he's mine!" the Major announced.

"NOT YET!" Fishlegs bellowed, surprising himself. "That dragon is clearly unwell and until he has been examined by myself and Leo Gudmundir and cleared, he remains too dangerous to be allowed into your custody!" The Major reached for his gun but Larson tutted and shook his head.

"Regretfully, the man is an expert and the law says he has to examine the beast before I make a judgement," he said but then his face hardened as he turned to the pinioned Hiccup. "But I agreed to the condition. Take the condemned to the cell. We hang him at sunset!"

oOo

"Why _Red?_ " Fishlegs asked. "I mean…Night Fury plasma is always purple…everyone knows that…" Leo nodded, slumped in Fishlegs' chair-which was the most comfortable in the shop. Stoick had insisted he was freed by the Marshals and the men-who clearly despised the older prisoner-had unfastened his handcuffs and unceremoniously thrown him to the ground in the Plaza and walked away. After being picked up, he had gone straight into Fishlegs' shop.

"It's…unusual…" Leo murmured, frowning. Fishlegs paced back and forth.

"And he almost looked to be steaming…I mean how…?" his voice was confused. Leo spun in the chair and carefully reached for the huge 'Dragon Manual' that was propped by the desk. Grimacing, the man rested the book down with a huge thud and began to flick through the thick parchment pages. Fishlegs opened his mouth to ask something but Leo quietly raised his mangled left hand to pause him as he concentrated on a half-remembered memory. Not daring to breathe, Fishlegs watched as the older man reverently turned the pages until he reached the page, his shortened index finger sliding down the smooth page until he paused.

"Hmm…fever…delirium…uncontrollable explosive plasma blasts…" he read. "Reddish glow…"

"How did you remember that?" Fishlegs asked him helplessly. The Manual was huge and Leo hadn't read it for twenty years: he could not believe that the man could recall an entry after so long…

"I love dragons," Leo murmured. "Wanted to become a Dragon Master from when I was a small kid and I read an old copy of the Manual cover to cover four times by the time I undertook my training. I've a photographic memory anyway…but just when I finished my training, my sister met Stoick and she came here-and I came with her. I gave up my dreams to be with her, though I helped out in Berk…" He sighed. "Eel," he read.

"But dragons don't eat eels!" Fishlegs protested.

"Except the Typhoomerang," Leo pointed out, his eyes lifting. There was a little smile lifting his lips. "Red…so it will be a blood-bane eel," he read.

"Those live in the river, up by the mountain lake," Gobber added as he lumbered in from the yard where he had been watching the restrained and unconscious Night Fury. He grinned and lifted a flask of his home-made mead. "Something to help the research…?"

"Gobber-we are not trying your rotgut!" Leo sighed, his eyes flicking down the page. "If Toothless was fed an eel, he'd develop symptoms of Eel Pox…but the cure is the same except you leave the eel out of the potion…"

"I could get Gothi…" Gobber offered. "She'd know the potion…"

"Lightly roasted buckthorn root, a dozen rock blossoms, a handful of…" Leo began to read.

"Ooh-I have those in my dispensary!" Fishlegs volunteered excitedly and scooted off. Gobber rolled his eyes.

"I havenae seen the laddie so excited since he stroked his first Gronckle," he commented and Leo sat back, wincing as he stretched.

"You know, being dead was so much less painful and stressful," he grumbled lightly. "Admittedly, it was a delight to find my nephew and see Val's eyes again…but after that…" He took a shuddering sigh.

"Ye didnae have tae come back tae Berk," the blacksmith pointed out as Leo flicked his disconcerting gaze up to inspect his old friend. Gobber shuddered slightly: it was easy to forget when listening to the same voice and gentle sarcasm that Leo had suffered near-fatal wounds and been left significantly less than the man he had been. Gobber could recall the absolute piercing emerald gaze, lit by his humour and keen intelligence: the whited-out eye surrounded by horrible scars was a chilling reminder even at the slightest glance of his trials.

"Actually, I did," he sighed. "I was a coward. I never came back because I feared what Alvin would do. That he would kill me…or those I cared for because I had survived. I did search for Hiccup but the trail went cold and I didn't have the resources of a Sheriff to chase him. Months passed to years and I just…gave up…" He idly ran his hand over the thick parchment of the page, feeling the irregularity under his fingers. "Until I met him. And meeting him…seeing Val's eyes…hearing Astrid call him Hiccup…I just _knew._ And he has that stupid little scar under his lip, to the right, from where Starlight caught him. I remember having to chase him for a whole night because he was so upset at harming the baby…but Val never blamed him or me."

"Stoick did," Gobber reminded him. Leo sighed and ran his right hand through his hair in a weary gesture.

"Yeah…sometimes, I guessed he had wished I stayed back home," he admitted. "I was always there, always seen as a rival for her affections…except I wasn't. She was my sister…and he owned her heart. Totally. I…just wanted to have a family because Val was all I had. And when I met Hiccup…he wasn't a gunslinger or a murderer…he was a man who had been appallingly hurt because he rescued a girl from rape and imprisonment and refused to give her up. And he had that sarcastic humour and keen observation that Val always had. And gods, could I sympathise with him after what those Berserkers did…"

"Ye need tae give yerself more credit, Leo," Gobber said thoughtfully. "He trusts yer. And for a man whose lost what he has, whose been though what he's endured…that's a mighty grand honour!"

"Got it!" Fishlegs announced brightly, dropping a pile of ingredients on the desk. Gobber stared up…and began to to laugh.

"Gobber," Leo sighed as the bell above the door jingled. There was a pause and then limping steps approached. A staff whacked Gobber, who cursing broadly and shuffled aside to let Gothi peer over the desk at the injured Leo. She jerked her head, then scraped a few symbols on the floor.

"Hey! My floor!" Fishlegs protested, earning himself a steady whack from the staff as she finished her comment.

"Okay, hand them over," Gobber read. "I'll brew yuir potion to cure the dragon!" He paused. "How did ye know, ye auld witch?" Gothi hit him again with his staff. "Okay, okay, yer've lived o'er a hundred years and don't take nae crap from anyone! I get it!" Gothi glanced up and nodded to Leo and the man nodded. No matter what they did, if they couldn't cure Toothless, it was all for nothing!

oOo

Hiccup sat on the bed in his cell, alone. Leo had been freed-for which he was grateful, because he had been sickened at how badly his Uncle had been treated, but even so…he would rather not be here as well. And though he knew the Major had done something to Toothless, it wouldn't help him because he was going to be killed. He closed his eyes and laced his hands behind his head, resting back against the wall. Strange that after all the things he had done-and he would be the first to acknowledge that some of them had been pretty bad-he was going to die for not bonding with a dragon.

He didn't bother to open his eyes as the door to the cells opened and a set of heavy footsteps entered. Then stopped by his cell. There was a long pause, then the creaking of floorboards and the shuffling of feet. And finally a small cough. Hiccup sighed then opened his eyes…to see, as expected, Stoick Haddock, standing stiffly by the bars of the cell, his big face looking…very uncertain.

"Afternoon, Sheriff," Hiccup said in a weary voice. "Excuse me not calling it 'good' but as I'm going to be executed at the end of it, can't bring myself to."

"I…er…understand, Ryder…" the Sheriff said gruffly, his grey-green eyes darting around the cell.

"You can call me Hiccup," he said. "It is my name, after all. About the only thing I have left from my former life….before I went with Espen." It was noticeable how Stoick's fists tightened at the mention of the man.

"Hiccup." The big man tried the word, rolling the name round his mouth. It was a name he only mentioned in association with devastation, pain and loss. It was the name of a dead baby, the death of his hopes and dreams and future, the shattering of his family. To have that dead child grown up and slumped on a bunk here in front of him, awaiting execution was really stretching his patience to breaking point. The prisoner felt himself grow uncomfortable under such an intense scrutiny, eyes inspecting every detail of his face-the pale skin, few faded freckles, sparkling emerald eyes, sharp line of the jaw darkened by stubble, the little white scar under the right end of his lower lip…

"Um…I am about to be killed so if you have anything you wanna ask, now would probably be a good time to ask it," he said dryly. Stoick flinched.

"Do you remember me?" he asked suddenly. Hiccup paused for less than a second.

"No. Sorry. Nor Mom. Espen was the man I called Dad. He said my Mom was dead but told me nothing. We moved around for a few years, working as casual dragon hands on various ranches until he scraped enough for our own farm. But we hadn't been in business long when the Hunters came through, stealing our herd and fatally shooting Dad…Espen. As he lay dying, he told me I wasn't his, that he had helped kidnap me and that my family may still be alive…but he never told me where to go. He died too soon…and that left me alone. So I made my way as best I could. _A man must make his way in the world_ …was what he always taught me. I worked on ranches and read what I could. I learned about dragons and worked every hour Odin sent so I could buy my own ranch. And I met…Heather. Her Dad was another wrangler…and we fell in love. I proposed and we married when I was fifteen. When _we_ were fifteen. Together, we bought little farm…a tiny place that could support a few Gronckles and not much else…but we were happy. We were together."

Stoick said nothing, hearing the inflection in the young man's voice.

"And then Trappers came through," he said quietly. "They pretended to be just passing through…but they saw our herd…and then they saw Heather." There was a pause. "They went for her…and I did everything I could to fight them off…but there were five of them and they were armed. They beat the crap out of me and then they turned to Heather."

"You don't have to…" Stoick said but the young man flicked up his resigned emerald gaze.

"I think I do-because this is all I can give you, Stoick. You can have my life story…because my life is done. I can't be the son I was born to be because that was taken a long time ago. I can't develop any sort of relationship with you going forward because I am to be hanged. So this is your only chance to know what happened. To know who I am."

Stoick's face grew very guarded. Hiccup caught it and sighed.

"And I can guess what you think, Sheriff, because you told me the first day I got into town. But watching five men repeatedly rape and finally murder your wife doesn't leave you the same man you were. I was saved by Redwing-the old Monstrous Nightmare I rode in on. He saved my life and killed the man who was about to kill me as well…but the other four got away with our dragons. I buried Heather and went to the law…but no one was interested. My farm had been burnt down, my dragons stolen and wife murdered…so I went after them. Five damned years it took me…until I finally rode into town on a dying dragon that Alvin's men just about finished off. They deserved to die…and all Dagur's men, after they murdered Astrid's father and held her hostage, after Dagur sexually abused her, after they beat and tortured me and tortured Leo. And Snotlout kidnapped her and tried to rape her. And…she killed him, not me, though I accepted the blame."

"I…understand…" Hiccup cocked an eyebrow.

"Actually, I don't think you do," he said quietly. "Because-forgive me-you never chased the men who murdered your wife and stole your child. I gave up everything and dedicated my life to that. I did what had to be done. Men died by my hand…but no one died who was a good man or who was working within the law. Usually there was no one on my side except Red…and sometimes the weak and innocent who suffered at the hands of the people I dealt with." He sat up straight and rose, walking slowly to the huge shape and staring into his birth father's eyes. "Stoick-you gave up. You sat at home and mourned your wife and let me go to Hel. Gobber and Leo went after me and…well, see how that went. You should have stopped Alvin then-but you didn't…and you let him win! You never even challenged Dagur and that meant the Trappers he traded with had free reign-including the ones who killed my wife!"

"I am not to blame!" Stock shouted at him and Hiccup gave a small smile.

"Well, I guess that answers where I got the temper from," he smirked. "No-but you didn't stop them. Had you…maybe things would've gone different. Maybe had to you chased, you would've found me and I would have you for a Dad, not Espen. Our choices define us, Stoick. Yours was to do nothing and it means you lost your son once to kidnapping-and now finally to hanging. Mine…was to do something, to chase down and avenge my wife when it was obvious the law would never find the men who destroyed my life…and killed my wife." He paused, breathing hard. "And you know the fucking ironic thing? I was done, finished. I had achieved what I had to, I had a dragon…Hel, I even found a woman who would love me and who I…found myself loving…and now I end up dying because that Major has drugged my dragon to steal him!"

"He didn't recognise you…" Stoick murmured. Hiccup slammed against the bars, his hands tightening round the metal as he glared at the lawman.

"I rode into town on that dragon!" he snapped. "I was rescued from the Berserker Compound by the dragon. I released him from his cage…and he got me up onto his shoulders and clambered us out of there! I was in no fit state to get out…he _saved_ me. We have flown together every day since I escaped. He insists on sleeping around me to make sure I am safe! The dragon who was presented me today had been drugged -because he wasn't my bud." He clenched his fists. "Just promise me, Stoick, you'll try to get that Major to justice…and stop Alvin!"

There was a long pause.

"Aren't you about to say anything?" Hiccup said then paused. "Midgard to Stoick?"

"You are the image of my wife…and Leo…" he murmured. Hiccup sighed and forced himself to turn away in exasperation, then walked back to the bed. He squinted at the small barred window: the afternoon definitely had a sunset sort of a feel.

"Nice to have known you, Stoick," he said sarcastically. "Shame you managed to fail me in every way but hey? Why ruin your fabulous track record of non-achievement?" The Sheriff scowled at him…as the door opened and the Marshals came in.

"It's time," Larson said.


	26. A First Class Hanging

**A/N: Sadness ahead.**

 **Twenty-Six: A First Class Hanging.**

Most of the town of Berk was out in the Plaza as Hiccup was led out from the jail, flanked by Marshals Olson and Arvidson, with Larson leading the way. The gunslinger was keeping his head up and eyes fixed on the gallows, silhouetted against the orange and purple and sky and he took a shuddering breath before he was led round to the steps. There were two soldiers on each corner of the gallows, to prevent any last minute rescue attempts…though Hiccup guessed that his friends didn't have the resources to stop an entire troop of soldiers. He paused and looked at the twins.

"You got me a coffin ready?" he asked quietly. "Measured me up?" Ruff winked.

"Told you-we can do it by sight," she reminded him. "And we did you the hour you arrived in town, remember? _Six one, no more than one thirty and kinda cute._ And…now taken." Hiccup smiled but it was forced.

"So you're ready," he said quietly. There was a hint of defeat in his voice.

"Naw," Tuff said easily. "You're not dying today."

"Tuff-all these soldiers and Marshals say otherwise but thanks for the vote of confidence," he deadpanned as he turned to the crowd, seeking a face that he wanted to take with him to Valhalla. And then he saw her, her eyes shining suspiciously and as she met his despondent green gaze, she pushed forward, running to throw herself against him, arms closing around his lean shape. He lifted his cuffed arms so he could wrap her in his embrace and felt her face nuzzle into his neck before she leaned up and kissed him desperately.

"Hiccup," Astrid murmured, her eyes shining and rimmed with tears. "You can't go. This-this isn't right…" He stared into her eyes, fixing them into his memory.

"Yeah…well, looks like fate finally caught up with me," he sighed. "Figures. I finally come to terms with my past and find the most amazing woman I wanna spend the rest of my life with…and then fate conspires to take it all away." He leaned forward and kissed her again. "Promise me you will look after Stormfly…and you'll find someone else, Astrid. After everything, you deserve happiness."

"So do you," she whispered, a tear sliding over her flawless cheek. "Gods, you of all people deserve happiness…" He took a shuddering breath.

"I guess I had my chance, five years ago," he murmured. "And this just wasn't meant to last…"

"No…" Her low cry was muffled as she buried her face in his chest once more, tears now soaking into his grimy green shirt. He buried his face in her soft hair, inhaling her scent and closing his eyes, tightening his grasp her around her one last time…as hands grabbed at his, hauling her away. She clung to him, her cries pitiful. "No! _NO_! Hiccup…!" she cried as she was dragged away.

"ASTRID!" he shouted as he was manhandled up the steps, struggling and writhing. "No! Dammit-This is wrong!"

"And yet it's going to happen because it was my judgement!" Marshal Larsen announced.

"BOO!" the crowd called.

"Larsen-you know this is wrong!" Stoick called, staring up at the man who had walked to stand by the Major. "He was on trial before a jury. You never made them vote! You have denied him his rights!"

"The Sheriff is correct!" Fishlegs announced from the verandah of his shop. "This is completely unconstitutional!"

"This whole damned town is unconstitutional!" Arvidson snapped. "I mean, look at you people! You don't seem to have a clue which century you are in!"

"Shame!" came the cry from the crowd.

"And of course, we know exactly which century we're in!" Tuffnut announced. Ruffnut stared at him.

"And which century is that?" she asked.

"Of course, dear sister, that information depends really upon which calendar one uses," he told her.

"Really?" she asked, a smile crossing her face. The Marshals were watching in horrified fascination as Tuff began to walk up and down, adopting a very professorial tone.

"Indubitably, dear sister, for every calendar carries a different start and end point and thus the nomenclature of the centennial timeframe is variable between chronologies!" he announced.

"Huh?"

"For example, use of the Hindu calendar of the Indian people would make this many centuries ahead of our local calendar, as would the calendar used in Judaism…" he began. By now all four Svens were scratching their heads and the soldiers were staring, completely bemused, at the male twin, who was waving his arms wildly while pacing up and down in front of the gallows. Drunken Olaf was drinking from two flasks of mead at once and staring at both accusingly.

"You mean that should, for example we be using the Julian rather than the Gregorian Calendar locally, then we would be in a different century?" Ruff asked. Tuff frowned.

"Um…yeah?" Ruff marched up to him and head-butted him.

"Mutton-head-that would only work if it was like January 1st 1900 as the difference is only like 13 days!" she shouted at him.

"Howabout the Viking calendar?" he asked, looking up at her and rubbing his forehead.

"Which one?"

"Um…the one hanging in the Outhouse?"

"ENOUGH!" Larson shouted, drawing his pistol and firing a shot into the air. "That is ENOUGH!" He motioned to his fellow Marshals and they wrestled Hiccup to the noose. The Major gave a nasty smile as he dragged the rope round Hiccup's neck and pulled the noose tight.

"Just remember-a bond only lasts until death," the Major whispered. "So when you are gone, that dragon is mine!" And he stepped back as Hiccup struggled wildly, restrained by Olson and Arvidson.

"Damn you!" he hissed. "Stoick-don't let him get Toothless! Please…if you owed my Mother anything, you will do this for me! Please…"

"Hiccup Haddock-you are found guilty of dragon rustling!" Larson announced in the gloom, the torches standing by the gallows and oil lamps on the shops and hostel casting light across the grim scene. "You are sentenced to death by hanging. Do you have any last words?" Hiccup stared forward and nodded.

"I did not steal this dragon," he said levelly. "I only did what I had to do because I was denied any justice, any help by the law…for the murder of the man who raised me and the woman I loved, my wife. No one answered for rustling _my_ dragons and _killing_ my family. Yet you waste this energy on framing me for a crime I did not commit. Astrid-I love you…and I'm sorry…Stoick…I'm sorry we had no time…and Fishlegs…tell Leo…I was proud to be his kin!" He swallowed hard. "I'm ready."

The Marshals all stepped back and the soldiers formed a cordon around the gallows as the Major moved to the lever…

…and then a blinding light rose from behind the Dragon Master's shop and everyone cringed back in shock. There was a roar and the blinding shape shot forward, screeching a challenge and zooming low over the gallows, a luminous mist spraying over all the men on and around the gallows. Larson tried to move but found he was frozen, his limbs totally locked though mind and eyes still functional. He saw the blinding shape blast back over and another spray waft over them before the shape hovered and landed neatly in front of the gallows. Leo looked up at the soldiers and the Marshals from the back of his Frightmare and smiled.

"I think we need a retrial!" Leo announced, drawing his pistol, aiming and firing. The bullet grazed the noose as it hung from the gallows. The second shot severed it completely. "Fishlegs-if you would…?" The Dragon Master grinned and opened the door to the yard behind the Dragon Master's shop-and Toothless erupted out. There was a sudden outbreak of scrambling for their lives as the crowd scattered from the formerly out of control dragon…but the frozen Hiccup could see the dragon's big green eyes had wide pupils and his ears were pricked and interested. The dragon glimpsed him and gave an excited warble…then galloped through the suddenly empty Plaza-though the entire crowd were watching from the front of the hostel. Gobber was elbowing people aside to make sure he had the best possible view and hanging onto Gustav, to prevent the boy interfering. However, Astrid was already halfway to Hiccup…until Leo scrambled from the saddle and threw himself forward. He grabbed her round the waist, leaning close and whispering in her ear:

"Wait," he murmured. "Let the dragon prove who Hiccup really is…"

Toothless was already halfway up the steps and onto the gallows, using his shoulders and tail to swat soldiers aside and head-butting the Marshals fiercely away as the dragon nudged against his friend and rubbed his head against the man's cuffed hands. His purr was very loud in the suddenly silent Plaza.

"You cannot fake or force the affection of a genuine dragon bond," Leo announced. "But you can interfere with it if you feed a dragon an eel!"

"Like this one that Toothless regurgitated after he was given the antidote!" Fishlegs announced, holding up the offending fish. "Since the effect of eating an eel is immediate, he must have been given it while in the custody of the Major and his men…almost certainly directly after he sent his man back to the stable with the note during the Trial!"

"Of course, what the Major probably didn't realise is the ultimate effect on the dragon would be fatal if not treated!" Leo announced, turning to face the shocked townspeople before turning back to the Marshals. "And what I am wondering is where he got a Bloodbane eel anyway? They are found in the lake and river above Raven's Point Butte in summer…but at this time of year, you can only get them from the far south-west…"

"So who supplied your eel, Major?" Stoick asked him directly. The man's eyes darted incessantly, his neck corded as he strained in vain to move, to pull the lever or draw his pistol. "And who are you working for? I wired the Government. The 5th Troop of the 19th Nadder cavalry are meant to be in Uglithug territory, conducting a hunt for Gronckle rustlers and Trappers. So are all your men in on the desertion or are they innocent dupes to your treason?"

"Who are you stealing this dragon for, Major Haagen" Leo asked him directly. "Because it sure ain't the government."

"Maybe the person we know is on his way from the south-west to this location, the most feared bandit with his army of dragons and dark riders?" Fishlegs suggested.

"When is Drago arriving, Major?" Stoick asked him gruffly. "And were you to give him the dragon before or after he attacked Berk?"

The Marshals began to look at each other and then at the Major whose face was scarlet with rage and looking a guilty as Hel though they were all still frozen…but Toothless was now very bored and head butted Hiccup hard, knocking him over. He went down with a hard slam and a faint groan escaped through his teeth but Toothless just gave a gummy smile before grabbing him delicately by the handcuffs and dragging him down the stairs. Everyone winced as his head hit every step with a loud thud on the way down. Thoughtfully, the dragon hauled the battered man across the dusty ground until he reached Leo and Astrid…and then he sat up, ears pricked and gave a proud croon as if he had fetched an especially large stick. When that didn't elicit the correct response from anyone, he began licking Hiccup insistently until the man blinked and cringed away from the sticky, lapping tongue that swiped back and forth across his face.

"Eurgh…" he groaned, wincing and lifting his hands to cradle the back of his skull. "Bud-did you have to crack my head on _every_ single damned step?" Toothless gave a sorry warble and the man slowly moved his cuffed hands to stroke the eager and nuzzling face, giving a relieved sigh. "You had me worried there, bud. You weren't yourself, were you?" Achingly, he managed to sit up with Astrid and Leo's help and wrap his arms around the dragon, hugging him fiercely, before turning to drag Astrid into a tender embrace and even more tender kiss. Leo backed away and smiled…as the Major's hand began to move slowly towards his pistol. The treacherous soldier's hand closed on the pistol and he found he could turn his head, lining up on the one-legged man…and the Night Fury rider behind him. Once the older man fell, no one would have time to stop him killing the prisoner…and then the Night Fury would have no rider…and no inconvenient bond...

But as the pistol swung up and the click sounded, Leo turned, seeing the pistol aim at him as his right hand was reaching for his own gun. He knew he wasn't as fast or as accurate as he had been…before Alvin…and he wouldn't be in time…for him. So he didn't draw the pistol…but threw it backwards at the man behind him…

…as he was impacted sideways as something solid hit him at the moment the report of the bullets sounded. A fierce, hot pain knifed into his left shoulder and then he hit the ground, biting back a cry…but Stoick took the brunt of the rounds, slamming into his huge form again and again before he fell….and behind him, unseen by the traitor, Hiccup caught Leo's pistol and fired over and over, the instant he could see the Major. Even half-turned to protect Astrid, each shot slammed with perfect aim into the Major's neck and head and the man flew back, dead even before he hit the wooden platform of the gallows…

The Marshals stared in shock and moved to cover the rest of the soldiers but Toothless was furious, growling and covering them all, his throat glowing with purple plasma in a very graphic warning. Starlight roared in fury as he smelled his rider's blood. There was a rustle and everyone in town produced a gun, covering the soldiers and the Marshals. The forest of clicks of hammers being cocked and 45s being aimed had the Marshals freezing.

"Nobody…move…" Fishlegs suggested, seeing a situation where a hail of flying lead could start any second…especially with the very hot-headed people of Berk. "Gothi…?" The small shape emerged from the shop and began to hobble really quickly to the sprawled shape of Stoick, four huge wounds in his chest. Hiccup stared in shock, seeing Leo down just by him with a large and expanding bloodstain on his shoulder. The older man shook his head.

"See your father," he groaned. Breathing raggedly, Hiccup turned and crawled to Stoick's side, hearing the catch in the man's breathing and the glassy look in his eyes. Suddenly, he found there was a lump in his throat, a weight in his chest that came from knowing this exact same look, nine years earlier, when the man he had called his Dad all his life lay dying after the raiders came through. Now, the man who was _actually_ his father was doing the same.

"Hey…Dad…" he forced himself to say. "I…I don't know what to say. Th-thanks…" Stoick rocked his head to see the young man leaning over him, his emerald eyes shimmering.

"H-hiccup?" he breathed in a very weak voice. "S-son…?" Hiccup nodded wordlessly.

"Why?' he breathed to the big man, supporting this head. Stoick gave a small smile.

"You _are_ my son…and you are right…I failed you. Every way I could, I failed you. And now you came back, against all hope and against all reason…and I could not fail you…could not fail Val one last time…" He blinked, his breathing growing shallower. "At least I can face her now and tell her I saved her son. That he is home…"

"Dad…no…" Hiccup murmured, feeling the dying man's breathing slow further. "I was supposed to die…I had accepted it…not happy but resigned…" He took a ragged breath, blinking hard agains the burning in his eyes. "You can't go. Berk needs you, now more than ever. Alvin is coming…Drago is coming…and I don't know how to stop him. We need you…"

"You'll do fine..son…" Stoick sighed, smiling. "Proud to have called you…my son…for however short a time…" His eyes fluttered closed and he gave one last, shuddering breath before he lay still. Hiccup stared into the slack face and felt a single tear roll down his face.

"I was _always_ your son," he whispered, burying his face in the chest, listening against all hope. But all he heard…was silence.

oOo

The entire town turned out for the funeral the next morning, walking silently behind the hearse that travelled unusually slowly for the twins, who were firm believers in express funerals. Gobber and Hiccup led the mourners, with Astrid and Gustav following, helping Leo along. Then came Mulch, various Svens and the rest of the ornery and very traditional people of Berk. Even drunken Olaf came along-though various people had to keep fetching him and directing him back in the correct direction. And following the humans came Toothless, Stormfly and Starlight, protecting the rear.

At the cemetery, the twins drew up alongside the grave of Valka and Hiccup, the freshly-dug hole neat and ready. The mourners positioned themselves in a huge circle, trying not to trip over other gravestones as the twins gathered their pall-bearers…Gobber, Hiccup, all four Svens, Mulch, Lars and even drunken Olaf to manoeuvre the huge casket onto the leather straps over the hole and lower the coffin into the grave. Gothi clambered down from the hearse and was soon by the gravestone, scratching on the dirt. Gobber read the scratches and swallowed.

"In accordance with Stoick Haddock's wishes, he asked to be said the words of the old religion at his funeral," he announced and stared at the mourners, seeing Astrid take Hiccup's hand, leaning against him. The young gunslinger hadn't spoken since his father's death, spending the night curled in the stable with his dragon, Astrid at his side, forcing him to eat and drink. Leo stood alone, his arm in a sling and heavily bandaged. The old blacksmith swallowed, recalling his oldest friend and doing the last thing he could him as he recited the ancient verse:

"May the Valkyries welcome ye and lead ye through Odin's great battlefield," he announced, his voice almost steady. He knew the words by heart, for the men had promised to say the words at each other's funerals…whichever went first. Somehow, Gobber always thought he would die before his friend. "May they sing yuir name with love and fury so that we may hear it rise from the depths of Valhalla…and know that ye've taken yuir rightful place at the Table of Kings…"

There wasn't a sound in the cemetery as every ear strained to hear the words. Hiccup blinked: he had never even known his father still properly revered the old gods.

"For a great man has fallen," Gobber announced, his voice wavering now. "A warrior. A chieftain. A father….A _friend_." He bowed his head as Gothi nodded and the twins handed round small flasks of oil. She nodded to Hiccup and he frowned.

"You pour it on the coffin," Leo murmured hoarsely. "The last honour for a Chief…or Sheriff…we have no funeral boat but he can still have his pyre…" Hiccup stared at him…then poured the oil over the coffin. Leo, Gobber and Gothi followed, then Astrid and Gustav and a trail of most of the townsfolk. Finally, everyone stood back. Toothless walked to Hiccup's side, seeing his shoulders shaking, nudging and rubbing against his hip comfortingly.

"I-I'm sorry…Dad…" the young man murmured. "I-I guess I wasn't the son you imagined and wanted. And I didn't turn out the way I imagined either. I-I…I don't know what I can do now…" He closed his eyes and another tear slid down his face. "I let you down…" he whispered. "And I-I never gave you a chance. I wish we had more time…" Astrid took his arm and hugged him as Leo limped to his side, reaching over Toothless.

"You know, you were born early after so many losses," he told the younger man, patting him gently on the shoulder. "Your mother feared you wouldn't survive but you were a fighter and your father believed you'd be the strongest of us all. And when you were lost, he was broken, his heart torn from him. He was a shell of a man while you survived and despite everything the Norns threw at you, you finally came home. And when he found out you were his son, come home, he finally began to believe that there was hope, began to show the few flashes of the man he had been. He loved you, Hiccup…he just was the worst man in the world at showing it. And he would never lose you again…even if it meant taking the bullet meant for you."

Gobber stood forward and held something out to the gunslinger: the silver star with SHERIFF engraved across it.

"He would have wanted ye ter have it, laddie," he murmured. "And the Elders met last night and voted ye Sheriff…" Hiccup blinked in shock.

"N-no," he mumbled, shaking his head. "I-I can't…" Astrid lifted her head and stared into his desolate face.

"I think you're the only one who can," she murmured. "The people accept you. You freed them from Dagur and the Berserkers. You stopped Snotlout. You're the only one who could stop Alvin and Drago and save Berk." She kissed him softly. "I believe in you, Hiccup," she told him softly.

Gothi scratched a few symbols in the dirt.

"Ye need tae ignite the pyre, lad," Gobber said softly. Hiccup swallowed and stared down at the oil-soaked coffin then patted Toothless's head.

"Go, bud," he murmured and the Night Fury shot a small purple plasma blast that had everyone leaping back…and flames erupting from the grave. The twins whooped and there were _oohs_ and _aahs_ from the crowd. Hiccup stared into the leaping flames and sighed. "Okay, Dad-you got me. I've been a farmer and a dragon wrangler and a gunslinger and husband…I'll follow you as Sheriff. I mean, I absolutely definitely have _no_ clue what I'm supposed to be doing, what being a Sheriff means…but I guess I can only try…"

And he turned to face Leo and Gothi and Gobber, the smallest look of hope lighting his pale face. A small light reignited in his dulled emerald eyes and he looked more determined, his arm tightening around Astrid. "We go back to Berk…and we prepare to defend our town!" he announced to an outbreak of cheering from the crowd…as Fishlegs came speeding in from the south on his Gronckle, Meatlug, his blue eyes wide with shock and fear.

"Oh Thor, oh Thor, oh Thor! They're coming!" he squeaked. "They'll be here by nightfall!"


	27. For Berk

**Twenty-Seven: For Berk…**

The Cemetery was silent for all of three seconds before there was complete panic and a rush for the townward gate. All decorum was forgotten as the citizens of Berk elbowed each other aside while Hiccup sighed and stared up at the approaching Gronckle, watching the panicking Fishlegs circle and land by the funeral party. Leo rolled his eyes and walked towards the worried man.

"Calm down, Fish," he said tiredly. "Tell us what you saw…"

"Oh Thor!" the younger Dragon Master whimpered. "There are a huge host of Outcasts, Bandits and dragons on their way…"

Hiccup frowned, his eyes still fixed on the stampeding Berk citizens: all of them were ample in size and trying to squish through the stone gateposts of the cemetery. He supposed it would have seemed reasonable…but there was no fence either side of the gateposts, which stood in glorious isolation. Nevertheless, the citizens were pushing and shoving to get through the narrow space and ignoring the acres of unimpeded exit to either side.

"Um…are they for real?" he asked, gesturing with his left hand at the scrum. As he watched, one of the gateposts was knocked over. Two of the Svens were now fighting and Drunken Olaf was swigging from his flask of mead. Astrid turned to look and sighed.

"Berk-the only town where everyone's weight is higher than their IQ," she murmured. "Except yours, babe…" Hiccup shrugged his bony shoulders.

"Thanks…I think…" he said dryly. "Okay…I can see expecting any coherent thought from the citizens may be an issue. What sort of dragons, Fish?"

"Whispering Deaths, Armourwings, Nadders, a Razorwhip and a huge white red-eyed titan wing Whispering Death…"

"A Screaming Death," Leo murmured quietly. "Oh Thor…" Hiccup turned hi ahead at the tone and stared at his Uncle: the tone was despairing.

"Leo?" he asked thoughtfully. The man slowly raised his forest green gaze and there was extreme anxiety there.

"Screaming Death…is a giant variant of Whispering Death…just immune to sunlight, worse tempered and hideously powerful," he explained. "There's one born a century…in a red egg, if I recall…but it would have to be with Alvin and Drago," he sighed, covering his face with his hand. Hiccup walked to him and frowned.

"Can I help?" he asked softly but Leo turned away, his head down and shoulders hunched.

"I can't do it, Hiccup," he murmured ashamedly. "I-I can't face Alvin again…and certainly not another Whispering Death…" Hiccup quietly caught the man's shoulder.

"You won't have to, my friend," he promised. "I will stop him. After all…he killed my mother, kidnapped me and maimed my Uncle. I think it's my turn to stand up to him." Leo's head snapped up and the tiniest smile lifted his lips.

"Val would be proud," he murmured as Gobber clapped his other shoulder, drawing a hiss from his lips as he jostled his bullet wound. Hiccup frowned and glanced at Astrid, extending his hand and feeling her fingers slide between his, curling reassuringly in a gentle grasp.

"Gobber-where does the Town Council meet? Is there Town Hall?" he asked. There was an embarrassed pause.

"Not as such, laddie," Gobber mumbled, glancing at the girl.

"What Gobber is trying to say is that the Town Council meets in his saloon!" Fishlegs helpfully supplied. Gobber groaned.

"That health hazard? Really?" Leo asked with a frown.

"Well we couldnae meet in th' Town Hall tae more…since Dagur burnt it down!" Gobber protested.

"Can you round up the Council so I can talk with them?" Hiccup suggested, his green eyes shadowed with thought. "I need their help…because we need a plan to stop Alvin once and for all!" Astrid linked her arm through his and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

"I'm with you all the way, babe," she smiled as they walked towards the cemetery entrance. The gateposts had been demolished and the ground was flattened by the stampede of Berk citizens. "But I don't hold out much hope that we'll get much help from the townsfolk…" Hiccup shrugged.

"No change there," he muttered.

They arrived back at Gobber's before the rest by dint of flying on Toothless and Stormfly. Leo, Gustav and Gobber travelled with the twins on the hearse and were following behind as the dragons landed in the yard before dismounting and walking in. Hiccup stared at the room and his jaw dropped.

"What the Hel has he done to this damned room?" he demanded. Astrid slowly soon round and inspected the room.

"Hmm…it looks a little grubby," she admitted, her azure eyes flicked over every surface.

"This place was spotless when I cleaned it!" Hiccup protested. "I mean…it looks even dirtier than when I arrived! And how is there stew on the ceiling?"

"The twins?" Astrid suggested, righting a couple of chairs and starting to gather up plates of stew…well, some brownish meal that appeared welded to the plates. Hiccup sighed and grabbed the plates, spoons and glasses and took them into the kitchen. There was a short scream as he caught sight of the kitchen. Astrid righted the rest of the chairs and peered around. Apart from the stew on the ceiling…and on the walls, the bar was sticky and the rug had dusty footprints on. She heard the pump going in the kitchen and a groan. She stared around and gently walked into he kitchen, finding the tall shape of the gunslinger staring despairingly at the sink full of filthy dishes, cups and pans.

"Babe?" she asked, coming to rest a hand on his back. He sighed.

"I can't do this," he whispered. "I-I…it's all too much, Astrid! I just managed to work it out when it was me and Red and my vengeance…but now I'm in the town I came from with-with the woman I love and my Uncle and my dead father and…and I really have no clue what to do!" She rested her cheek against his back and wrapped her arms around his lean shape.

"I know the guy who befriended a Night Fury, rescued my brother and saved me will find a way," she told him softly. He slowly turned to inspect her, his warm green gaze sweeping over her smiling face.

"I think he may have lost his motivation," he muttered. She stared up into his face and beckoned him down, pressing her lips firmly against his, finding his hands sliding down her back to grip her slender waist.

"I sincerely hope you've got a better one now," she mumbled into his lips and she felt him pull back and give his lopsided smile.

"I could get used to it," he admitted as the door banged and the rest of the Town Council noisily made their way into the Saloon. Hiccup kissed Astrid again as he heard Gobber loudly take the drinks order and the murmur of appreciation. Chairs scraped and creaked alarmingly as the Council took their seats…and Hiccup sighed, allowed Astrid to adjust his star and walked into the Saloon. Gobber was serving meads all round and Hiccup grabbed a couple of small glasses for Astrid and himself…and then he looked around the Council.

They were not exactly an inspiring group. Gothi was there, perched on the most comfortable chair with a huge mug of mead, her staff still gripped in her other hand. Gobber was at the bar, serving two of the Svens, Lars the shopkeeper and Fishlegs. The twins had occupied a table and were arguing with Leo, who was wearing an exasperated expression that Hiccup recognised from the mirror. Astrid accepted her mug and slid onto an unoccupied chair as Hiccup-who had taken his place as the Sheriff on the Council an hour earlier-leaned against the bar.

"We have a problem," he began. "Alvin the Treacherous and many of his Outcast men are returning with his half-brother, the feared bandit Drago Deathbringer. They have come to wreak vengeance on Dagur and his Berserkers…but they no longer exist. So they are going to attack us with no reason…"

"We could try to parlay and explain that to him," Fishlegs suggested in a worried voice. He was not a man for combat.

"Not sure that will work," Leo spoke up grimly.

"How do you know?" Lars asked him sharply. Leo sighed and gestured to the bandaged remains of his left hand and the prosthetic.

"Tried it once?" he suggested. When Lars looked spectacularly dim, he sighed. "Alvin tortured me then fed me to wild Whispering Deaths to end me…" Lars's eyes widened in shock.

"Well, maybe he just didn't like your attitude…!" the shopkeeper told him smugly.

"You want attitude…?" Leo began, his remaining eye flashing.

"Okay…maybe that isn't the smartest option," Astrid spoke up before Hiccup could growl in defence of his Uncle. "Anyone got any ideas for how we could maybe resist Alvin and Drago?"

"Paint the town Red!" Tuff called out with a grin. Hiccup's head snapped round in shock.

"What? How-how would that help?" he stammered.

"It would be awesome!" Ruff told him, fist-bumping her twin.

"WHY?" Hiccup stuttered.

"Oh-I know!" Ruff suggested. "We could built an exact replica of the town two miles away from the real town so that they attack that instead of us…"

"And when they discover it's a fake Berk?" Hiccup asked in a faint voice.

"Hey-no one hates Berk enough to attack it twice!" Tuff told him as if it was obvious.

"Oh Gods," Hiccup groaned. "Any sane suggestions? _Anyone_?"

"We could buy him off?" Gobber suggested.

"With what?" the larger Sven asked.

"I have Dagur's house…and buried under there is his gold…but I doubt that would be enough…" Astrid revealed.

"Unless you throw in the most expensive dragons…say a Skrill…and a Night Fury…" Fishlegs suggested.

"NO!" Hiccup and Leo said simultaneously.

"You cannot hand Alvin any advantage like that!" Leo told him sharply.

"Toothless is mine!" Hiccup added grimly.

"And Drago is a vicious madman who uses dragons to subjugate those he attacks and conquers!" Leo finished.

"That ain't happenin'!" Gobber echoed. "Stoick used tae read meh reports about the man. He is evil, pure and simple! Ye canna give him any help!"

"But he will wipe us from the face of Midgard!" Lars protested. Hiccup narrowed his eyes: the man was clearly a troublemaker and liked at the sound of his own voice. Hiccup took a slow breath: Astrid was right-he did have something to live for.

"Not if I can help it," he said calmly. "Twins-have you buried the Berserker brothers?"

"Uh, dude-who do you take us for?" Ruff asked him in an offended voice. "They were underground by nightfall! And we did it for free…"

"Can you dig them up?" Hiccup asked them pointedly.

"Um…do you understand what an undertaker does?" Tuff asked pointedly. "We're not like a bank, where you can make deposits and withdrawals! Once in, they stay in!"

"Except Drunken Olaf!" Gustav piped up from the back. "You've buried him three times already!"

"Well, he keeps falling unconscious in the middle of the Plaza!" Tuff protested.

"And we'll be right one day!" Ruff added. "Eventually…"

"Can you dig them up?" Hiccup growled through his teeth.

"Of course we can!" Tuff said in an offended voice. "Though they won't be pretty…"

"I just need Al to be able to recognise Dagur!" Hiccup snapped. "Despite the fact that it is the stupidest plan known to man, I am going to try to talk to them…and prove to them they have no quarrel with Berk."

"And if that doesn't work?" Astrid asked.

"Two options," he said. "We have an army unit and three Marshals as our guests. They can do their duty and protect the citizens of Berk from a real enemy!" Gothi frowned and scratched on the floorboards, despite Hiccup's wince.

"Good plan but they don't seem tae be men who do their jobs!" Gobber read and scowled. "Yer old witch. That's hardly reassurin'!"

"We have to try," Hiccup sighed. "But if they don't take the opportunity before they arrive, then I will see if either of them is a man. And see if they fancy a duel for the town of Berk!"

Silence met his declaration…and then the twins leapt into the air, whooping in excitement. "YAY!" they screamed. "AWESOME DESTRUCTION! RYDER ROCKS!"

"Though they may just try to kill me…which is why I'm going on Toothless," Hiccup said.

"I'm going with you!" Astrid said immediately. He spun to face her, his eyes wide with worry.

"No, Milady!" he told her very firmly.

"I can come if I want!" she snapped, irritated. "I'm not helpless…"

"But I will be!" he reminded her. "Astrid, I have lost my mother, my supposed father, my wife, my previous dragon and my real father. I cannot lose you…that would finish me! And I can't do what needs to be done if I am using at least half an eye to watch over you…and I would, Milady, because that is who I am. I didn't save you from Snotlout to allow you to be captured and suffer Thor knows what under Alvin!" Her eyes widened, the expression softening with sympathy as she recalled his wounds.

"Babe, I…" she murmured. "I-I just want to help…" He closed to her side and pulled her to her feet, his hands gently curling around her upper arms, thumbs stroking her skin gently.

"Then watch the town and Gustav and Gothi and Gobber for me," he asked her gently. "And…Leo…" They was a pause and her eyes met his. "Please…I know I can trust you." She swallowed, blinking hard at the grim tone in his voice and nodded.

"Hey, I want to go!" Gustav protested. "Hookfang is pretty powerful and could help!"

"And I dinnae want tae miss out on this fight!" Gobber added.

"What about us?" Tuff asked pointedly.

"Oh, you're coming with me!" Hiccup said calmly. "And you, Fish!"

"Are-are you sure?" Fishlegs protested. "I would be so much more use here…"

"Fish…I need you with me," Hiccup said quietly. "Because Leo can't come…and I need a Dragon Master…" The older man stiffened. "We move out in an hour. Everyone else-warn the town. Get the women and children to Astrid Hofferson's compound…the former Berserker compound. At least there, they can be protected. Gobber-would you come with me? I think I need to talk to the soldiers and Marshals before I leave!"

oOo

The Marshals were housed in the cells, watched over by Grump. Admittedly the Hotburple wasn't the best guard-dragon…which was to say he was asleep the entire time…but he prevented escape simply by forming a physical barrier to actually getting out. The people of Berk had been very hostile and after the death of the Sheriff, the Marshals had decided they ought not to cause more bloodshed. Admittedly the food in cells was good but they were locked up when they were supposed to be restoring order to the town…but even Larson had to admit they had done more harm than good in dealing with the auburn-haired gunslinger. So it was little surprise when the door to the cells opened and the large one-legged one-armed man poked his head in, the brown bowler still jammed on his head.

"Out, Grump!" he growled. "If yer dinnae move, I'm putting yer up fer adoption!" The heavy dragon unwillingly opened an eye and backed out of the cells to cursing from the two-limbed man before the tall shape of the gunslinger walked in, his hat tilted back on his messy auburn hair and his bright green eyes thoughtful. The old man hobbled in beside him. All three Marshals stood in their cells as the gunslinger faced them…the silver star bearing the word SHERIFF attached to his vest.

"We all have a problem," the new Sheriff said. "Drago Darkheart is a few miles out of town with Alvin the Treacherous and an army of bandits. There's too little time to evacuate…even if you could persuade this ornery bunch to leave their homes anyways! So it would be timely if the US Marshals we have in town could do something useful for once!"

"What the Hel are you doing with that star?" Olson growled. Hiccup sighed.

"Lucky me-the Town Council decided they wanted Stoick's son as Sheriff," he said sarcastically. "I mean, my extensive knowledge of law-enforcement…all from the wrong side, I freely admit, seems to be qualification enough!"

"You may not have rustled that dragon but you have broken a host of laws!" Larson growled. Hiccup shrugged.

"Wouldn't have if the law hadn't let me down in the first place," he said coldly. "I didn't ask to be kidnapped as an infant, to have my mother killed and be raised by one of the kidnappers…or to watch him killed, to have no clue where my home or family was, to fall in love and watch my wife raped and murdered and be beaten within an inch of my life when our dragons were stolen. Where was the law then? I visited my sheriff each time…and nothing was done. So I did it."

"So it was justified?"

"No one else made the killers pay," Hiccup said. "No one else had the nerve to finish off the Berserkers who murdered Astrid Hofferson's father and kidnapped her. The same men who beat and tortured me and, when I had escaped, terrorised the town until they caught Leo and tortured him in the centre of the plaza. Somehow, the people of Berk trust me because I freed them from the gang that had taken over the town!"

"The Council vote was unanimous!" Gobber added. "Now, yer were called in by Stoick tae deal with the gangs. The second gang is coming in with a bandit wanted all over the country! What're yer gonna do? Run away wi' yer tails between yer legs because yer broke the law, tried tae hang an innocent man and helped a traitor try to steal a Night Fury from his bonded Rider and murder the Sheriff…or do yer duty and protect the people of this town from Alvin and Drago?"

Hiccup folded his arms and scowled. They had agreed he would do the talking…but Gobber was massively indiscreet and furious at the death of his best friend.

"What he said!" he added sarcastically. "He seems to be in charge of the Town Council." Larson face-palmed.

"Those lunatics?" he groaned. "Are any of them from the jury?"

"All of them…except Drunken Olaf," Gobber admitted. "But we also include Ruffnut, the other undertaker and, of course, the town's richest and leading citizen-Astrid Hofferson. And the Dragon Master and well, my old friend Leo Gudmundir deserves to be on the Council for his experience and skills." Arvidson rolled his eyes.

"You would never convict him, would you?" he realised.

"Viking sensibilities would absolve him o' any blame given all he has suffered-and all he has done fer the people here in Berk already," Gobber confirmed.

"The people need everyone they can get to protect them," Hiccup said coldly. "I am not asking you to face him. I will go-with some friends…but if that fails, I need a plan B."

"You want three US Marshals as your plan B?" Arvidson snarked.

"And the Army," Hiccup added. "Their Major may well have been a traitor and a liar but those men looked genuine. Maybe they will want to defend the town as well?" Larson stared at him calculatingly.

"You gonna ask them… _Sheriff…?_ " he sneered.

"Nope. You are!" the gunslinger said firmly. "They'll trust you." Larson frowned and glanced at his comrades. All of them would have executed Hiccup out of hand but now the situation had changed-and they were facing a threat greater than they could have guessed. All had heard of Drago…and knew the damage he could inflict on the little town. Then they reluctantly nodded.

"Okay," Larson said, lifting his chin. "Let us out of here and…"

"I think I'll get you to talk to the army guys first," Hiccup said, his green eyes narrowing. "Once you've convinced them, _then_ I'm letting the rest of you out of here…" Larson frowned.

"You're really Stoick's son?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Looks like it," he said in a toneless voice. "And thanks to your friend the Major, I'll never get to know him. So all I can do is what he would have: _a Sheriff protects his own_. Protects Berk. Even at the cost of his life."

oOo

Toothless was fidgeting eagerly, his saddle laden with a couple of rifles as well as his Rider. Hiccup checked his gun was fully loaded and sighed…before he heard running steps and looked up to see Astrid racing towards him, her skirts in her hands as she sprinted across the Plaza.

"Oh no-you are NOT going without saying goodbye, Mister Skinny!" she snapped.

"Pretty sure that's _Sheriff_ Skinny to you, Milady," he smirked as she flung herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest. "I wasn't going anywhere," he murmured, feeling her trembling.

"You better not," she said as she raised her head, her blue eyes shining with emotion. "Or I'll fly Stormfly to Valhalla to fetch you back!"

"Pretty sure her wings will get tired before you get anywhere near," he murmured, kissing her forehead. She grabbed his vest and hauled his head down for a proper, very passionate kiss. And then she punched him in the shoulder. "Owww! That's hardly gonna entice me back!"

"Well, I gotta give you some reasons to come back…"

"What-fear?" he protested. Her lips crashed into his again and when she finally pulled away, he was breathing heavily, his expression very slightly goofy. "Hmm…though it could well be worth it!"

"Keep your mind on the bad guys," she warned him as the twins arrived on their Zippleback, Gobber lumbered up on a very reluctant Grump and Fishlegs hovered in on Meatlug, his Gronckle.

"Always, Milady," he reassured her, "but my heart will be with you, here. Now I actually have something to live for!" He glanced up and his eyes darkened for a second in disappointment. "Have you seen Leo?" he murmured. She sighed.

"He's sitting with Star," she said softly. "I-I think he's terribly ashamed he can't face Alvin again…"

"He's done more than enough!" Hiccup murmured, still holding her close. "I really should go talk with him…" And then he stopped, because he knew time was running out. The Marshals had emerged from the jail and the soldiers were lined up along the side of the Plaza, their Nadders all saddled and ready to meet the enemy. She raised a hand to stroke his face.

"I'll talk to him if you promise to take care," she said gently. He kissed her once more, a chaste hiss then pulled back.

"Promising nothing," he sighed, "because they have to be stopped."

"And this crazy plan is the best you could come up with?" she asked. He shrugged, reluctantly letting her go.

"Not a lot to work with, to be honest," he said dryly.

"Um…allies on dragons here, listening!" Fishlegs spoke up.

"I said _not a lot_ , not _nothing!_ " Hiccup said dryly to the eavesdroppers. "Come on-they're getting closer and we need to make them an offer they can't refuse…"

"One of Gobber's stews?" Tuffnut suggested.

"No-his Home Brewed Mead!" Ruff amended with a roar of laughter.

"And we're outta here!" Hiccup cut in before Gobber exploded. "Let's go! Twins-have you got the presents?"

"You got it, H!" Tuff called. Hiccup sighed as Toothless rose from the ground.

"H? _H?_ I mean, where's the respect?" he grumbled.

"Hey! That's extremely respectful…for us!" Ruff reminded him. He sighed.

"Somehow, I knew that was the answer," he said as he led his little group out of town, flying low and fast towards the canyons to the south, the swirling wind blowing the dry, gritty dusk up into their faces. Hiccup had his scarf across his lower face but Gobber was coughing and the twins were whooping and choking in equal measures. But they rounded the bend in the canyon and stopped, aghast.

Before them hung a fearsome hoard, over a hundred men and dragons, many common types like Gronckles and Nadders but a few were were exotic-Whispering Deaths, an Armourwing-which a sallow-skinned one-armed brute of a man with long black dreadlocks, a scarred face and cruel black eyes was riding-and a Giant White Whispering Death with burning red eyes and ten times the size of the Alvin's 'regular' Whispering Death mount.

"Oh my, oh my, oh my…it _is_ a Screaming Death," Fishlegs whimpered. "We're done…they're hyperaggressive, invulnerable to daylight…in fact they have no documented weaknesses at all…"

"Thank you, Fishlegs…really making my day here," Hiccup muttered as the little party hovered ahead of the vanguard. He raised his hand and waved a white scarf Astrid had given him.

"Are yer surrendering, Ryder?" Alvin shouted. Hiccup scowled.

"Oh, hi, Al!" he called amiably. "No-but feel free to if you want!" _Please…._

"I'm good, boy!" the gun merchant shouted back. The young Sheriff turned his attention to the one-armed man on the armoured dragon and his expression hardened.

"And you would be Drago Darkheart," he shouted.

"I am Deathbringer!" the man roared, waving his arm around and swinging a ferocious bull-hook. All the dragons in the army lowered their heads, cowed. Toothless gave a puzzled warble and Hiccup unconsciously patted his head.

"Yeah, bud, I know," he murmured under his breath. "I don't like him either…" Then he signalled the twins, who were transporting there coffins lashed to the backboard of al old wagon. They dropped it from about them feet and them Barf'n'Belch's powerful clawed paws ripped the lids off the coffins, exposing the less than healthy looking bodies of the Berserker brothers. A couple of Alvin's men went green and vomited while Drago's men looked away to the sounds of retching: even the gun runner swallowed once, though his face twisted in a triumphant smirk.

"I see yer took care o' me competition, boy!" he announced. "I owe yer one…mebbe I'll let yer live after this…now Berk is mine…"

"Not so fast!" Hiccup snapped. "You abandoned Berk-and any claim on it. Dagur and his gang are gone. Berk is free! And we certainly don't want or need you…" Drago scowled and roared at his dragon: immediately, it lifted its head and incinerated the coffins containing the dead Berserkers. The twins on their dragon got out of the way just in the nick of time…but they were scowling and leaning forward tensely in their saddles, ready to attack, gas already trailing for Barf's mouth… Toothless gave a fierce roar and the Screaming Death instantly replied, causing all the dragons to shake their heads in disorientation.

"It's scream disorients them…" Fishlegs gasped as Hiccup fought for control.

"Step aside, boy, and we won't hurt yer…" Alvin said slimily but Hiccup tightened his grasp on the saddle.

"Can't do that, Al-even if I wanted to let you. But I don't. Berk is my home and I don't want gangs ruining it…" And then the sun gleamed on his star. The huge gun runner burst out laughing.

"They made you Sheriff?" he roared with laughter. He was almost helpless. Drago was chuckling cruelly, measuring up the skinny, lanky shape and finding it wanting…but Hiccup dropped his hand to his pistol and his green eyes narrowed.

"Yes," he said coldly. "Don't you recognise me, Al? Twenty years ago, you tried to kidnap me and my Mom? But you bodged it. Mom was killed…and one of your men, Espen Randall, ran off with me. He raised me as his own…until I finally returned to Berk…to get my revenge…" Alvin's eyes popped wide and he almost fell off his Whispering Death with laughter.

"You're Stoick's scrawny pup?" he sneered. "Oh this is rich! This why they made yer Sheriff? Ter keep the bloodline in charge of Berk? Hope yer made yer peace with Odin, boy, because this will be the shortest tenure as Sheriff in the town's history…"

Toothless roared and every dragon started as the lanky shape stood in the saddle.

"NO!" he shouted. "You face ME! We duel for Berk…if either of you is man enough to stand up to me!" His lips twisted in a sarcastic smile. "I mean…look at me! What are you two big men scared of?"

But Alvin knew. He recalled the four coffins filled by his men on Ryder's first day in Berk, men gunned down by the lightning fast stranger…the man now facing him. But he couldn't allow Dago to take the challenge…because then Berk would be his, not Alvin's. The Outcast nodded, his big head, his dark eyes calculating…

"Challenge accepted!" he roared.

"For Berk?" Hiccup checked firmly. Alvin nodded.

"We fight for Berk," he confirmed.

"And the weapon?" Hiccup asked, knowing he was better than any of them with any rifle or pistol. Alvin gave a yellow grin, eyeing his trump card.

"Dragons!"


	28. What's Mine

**Twenty-Eight: What's Mine…**

"Dragons!" Alvin said triumphantly. "We fight with dragons fer the fate of Berk!" Hiccup narrowed his eyes.

"You do know I have a Night Fury, don't you?" he asked suspiciously. Alvin gave a grin.

"But I have…this…" And he gestured to the enormous Screaming Death, which roared furiously. Toothless gave an answering roar, his pupils narrowing in anger at the challenge.

"I thought that belonged to Drago!" Hiccup growled.

"It 'atched from one of me Whispering Deaths in that mine where…well, where yer Uncle met 'is end," he sneered.

 _No he didn't but thank the Gods you don't know that,_ Hiccup thought furiously as he felt Toothless pulling. "Bring it!" he growled, feeling Toothless tense. Drago gave a cruel smile and roared, waving his bull-hook around…and the Screaming Death accelerated towards Toothless.

But the Night Fury was no longer there, arrowing up and flipping round, firing a huge and accurate plasma blast at the giant white dragon. But it shook the blast off and kept on coming.

"This may be a problem," Hiccup murmured, grasping the saddle tighter. "C'mon-let's see how fast he is!" They swooped round and the Screaming Death roared and fired at them, gouts of flames that peppered the sky around the much smaller black dragon that spun and dodged. Hiccup found his foot moving almost instinctively as he guided them away and down, skimming low as they rocketed into the maze of canyons. They had flown here every day when he was recuperating from his encounter with the Berserkers and he knew the knot of canyons well. They swooped right and ducked down a narrower space but the Screaming Death raced after them, its roars echoing through the valleys. And then they vanished.

Fishlegs, Gobber and the twins faced Alvin and Drago and felt the impact of two pairs of very cruel, very calculating eyes on them. The husky Dragon Master was counting species and numbers and realised they were horribly outmatched while the twins were still watching Drago very closely, mindful that he had tried to incinerate them once already. Gobber just scowled, never taking his eyes from the broad shape of Alvin .Giving a small wave, Fishlegs had Meatlug hover backwards, her wide eyes worried at the hostile dragons facing her.

"Um…I think we should be going…" he suggested in a squeak.

"I don't think yer goin' anywhere…" Alvin growled.

"No…I really think we ought to be going…" Fishlegs repeated as Alvin's Whispering Deaths all rose from the ground and began to close.

"Fishlegs…" Tuff shouted. "I really think you should leave now…"

"But the polite thing to do in any negotiation is to come to an agreement and then take your leave by mutual consent…" Fishlegs gabbled.

"FISH! There ain't gonna be no mutual consent!" Ruff yelled at him. "He's going to kill you!"

"Oh Thor!" Fishlegs squeaked as the Zippleback swooped forward, a cloud of gas billowing from Barf's mouth. Gobber drew his pistol as Grump suddenly growled.

"See yer in Valhalla!" he shouted and aimed.

"GO! NOW!" Tuff shouted at him. "Belch! SPARK!"

And then the explosion engulfed them all…

oOo

Astrid watched the soldiers deploy along the Plaza from the door to the former Berserker Compound, seeing the men check their weapons professionally then hunker down with their Nadders. She sighed, her hand dropping to the handle of her pistol. She had strapped the pistol on because she was more afraid of not being able to protect herself and her brother than of anything else.

She glanced behind her: in the stables and storerooms, pretty much all the women and children of Berk were hiding, trying to stay safe from Outcast attackers. Gustav, Gobber and Astrid had been tasked to protect the innocents while the men joined the soldiers in protecting their town, lining up with their array of homely weapons. Gustav was boasting at top speed to the other kids, showing off Hookfang and playing with the Monstrous Nightmare. The dragon had a mischievous look in his eyes and she guessed he was the draconic equivalent of her brother…but at least Hookfang had been trained by Hiccup. She smiled and glanced around…and then headed for a small storeroom than wasn't packed with people only because it was already packed with a softly glowing dragon. Brushing her skirts, she headed determinedly for the storeroom and quietly paused at the door, then pulled the door open just enough to admit her before pulling it to.

Starlight, the Flightmare was crouched unhappily in the storeroom, glowing brightly. Leo had explained about the effects of luminous algae and that Star wasn't a dragon with flame: Flightmares terrified their prey with their glow and froze them with their paralysing mist…before using their claws to finish them off. But in daylight, Star wasn't that fast and had no long range means of protection…he felt vulnerable and afraid…and next to him, curled against his flank, was Leo.

The older man was curled, his head down and face hidden. His lean and lanky frame was an exact replica of Hiccup-except the missing left lower leg and the frayed bandages wrapping the remains of his left hand. He still had a sling supporting his left arm from when he had been shot and he was silent. Astrid walked slowly towards him, feeling a stir of sympathy-he looked so much like Hiccup-as she settled down and sat back on her heels just by him.

"Leo?" she asked him gently.

"Has he gone?" he asked quietly. She nodded.

"He's facing them," she told him. "He was worried about you, Leo. He understands. You've done enough!"

The older man lifted his face and Astrid was abruptly reminded of the similarities and differences between Leo and Hiccup. The same shaped face was pale and twisted in shame, an identical emerald eye looked at her with shame and self-loathing...but the horrible scars marring the left side of his face, crossing over the whitened and blinded eye reminded her why he was here and not at the Sheriff's side. His maimed and bandaged hand slid over Star's scaly hide as he stared at her.

"I owe him my life…but I let him face them without me," he muttered with self-loathing.

"Leo," she said sternly, "he doesn't remember…does he?" The man met her eyes for the briefest of moments…then shook his head.

"He was a baby, just over a year old…and he has no memory at all of his parents from his childhood," Leo murmured. "He doesn't recall being taken-or seeing or hearing his mother shot." He paused. "I heard the shot and found her dying with Stoick…I saw the men riding away and I went after them…but they escaped Gobber and I. But we knew it was Alvin. And when we had enough proof to arrest him, Stoick wouldn't help. He told us to go ahead…but Alvin was waiting. Gobber was shot…but I was captured…"

Without thinking, she gently caught his shoulder and hugged him, feeling the lean shape curl against her. "Shhh…it will be alright…" she murmured soothingly. He shook his head.

"When they dragged me into that mine, Alvin stood over me, laughing," he murmured ashamedly. "I had broken, begging him to let me go, to spare me. But he left my broken shape in the mine, too far from the entrance to escape with my wounds…and then I heard the Whispering Deaths slithering close…" He tightened his hold on her for a long moment…and then he gave a shuddering sigh.

"Hiccup knows," she assured him.

"He needed me," he breathed. "He needed a Dragon Master…and his only kin. I let him down both ways."

"He trusts you," she said gently, stroking his shoulder as he slowly pulled away. "He knows how badly you were hurt…but you came through when he needed to learn how to fly Toothless…and when he was going to be hanged and shot in the back by the Major…"

"I can see why he loves you," he murmured tactlessly. "Gods, I said that aloud, didn't I?" She nodded with a small smile. "Gobber must be contagious!"

"Gobber is a legend in his own lunchtime," she smiled. "I think Gustav would like to talk to you, if you feel up to it. He needs some direction in handling that Monstrous Nightmare before he destroys half the town. And I think you know more than enough to keep him in line…" He gave a wry smile.

"So the town is about to be attacked by an army of outlaws and I'm handed babysitting duties," he realised with a sigh. "All I deserve…" She laid a gentle hand on his face.

"Leo…I trust you to guide my brother," she murmured. "And…protect him, if the worst happens."

"But you need me more as a Rider…and as the partner of a Flightmare," he admitted, patting the dragon gently. "If they attack, I'll have to face him anyway…so I may as well on my terms and standing on my own two…well, one…foot." He moved his left leg, braced his prosthesis against the dirt floor and levered himself painfully to his feet, offering Astrid a hand to haul her up.

"I need to get back to preparing the town," Astrid told him, dusting her skirts off, then leaned forward and pecked a tiny kiss on his cheek. "Hel, if I leave it to Lars, Sven and Sven, almost nothing will get done….and Gustav will burn down what little does get prepared!" He gave a small smile.

"Let's go, Astrid," Leo sighed, rubbing Starlight's head. "C'mon, Star. Let's see if we can keep my nephew's girl safe…"

"Girl?" Astrid asked him archly, linking her arm with his as they headed to the door, the slithering of Star moving sounding behind them. He gave a small smile.

"Okay…and you can protect me in return, Miss Hofferson," he said in a gently teasing voice.

"It's a deal," she agreed as they walked into the yard and prepared for battle.

oOo

"GOBBER!"

The sounds of the explosions were still echoing through the canyon as the Berkians scattered away from the invaders…but Grump wasn't as fast as any of the others…and Gobber really wasn't pressing him either. An insane grin cracking his big face, the blacksmith leaned forward on his dragon and kicked him on, seeing the plan now. Inexorably, the Hotburple was swinging to the south, to a corral that had been stocked during the afternoon by the people of Berk who had made a choice between their homes and replaceable livestock. So as the Twins and Fishlegs fled back towards town as fast as their dragons could take them, the old blacksmith gave a huge whoop of triumph and used Grump's club-like tail to smash down the fencing.

"Tek this fer killin' mah best friend!" Gobber shouted and shot his pistol wildly into the air…stampeding the huge herd of Gronckles. As one, the solid dragons rose and flocked furiously in the direction of the waiting attackers. Alvin's eyes widened and Drago lifted his bull-hook and swirled it around, roaring terrifyingly…

…but these were _Berkian_ Gronckles, meaning hard-headed, not very bright and extremely difficult to stop. Ignoring the feared Outlaw completely, they slammed forward into the army of dragons, Outcasts and Outlaws…and scattered them…

The attacking forces held for about three seconds before the wall of Gronckles knocked pretty much everyone from their dragon, scared off half of the Whispering Deaths and crushed two Nadders. Three men were tramped and didn't get up and Drago looked up from the dust, his eyes narrowed with rage. He glanced over at Alvin, who was trying to get out of a huge thorn bush and growled as he scrambled to his feet and whistled to his dragon.

"Get those dragons under control!" he roared. "Mount up! We ride…for Berk!"

"'Ere…what about the Sheriff?" Alvin called from the bush. Drago can a scornful laugh.

"He's already dead!"

oOo

No matter what Toothless did, how fast he rocketed through the canyons or how he slalomed through the needles and buttes, the Screaming Death remained stubbornly on their tail, his roar causing Hiccup's ears to ring and disrupting Toothless's balance. But the rider was low over the neck, his hand resting reassuringly on the Night Fury's head and his foot moving almost unconsciously as the dragon flipped and banked to evade the huge white dragon's blasts.

"Well, he certainly seems determined, Bud," he murmured. "But I know you are faster and more agile…" They dived round a column that supported a narrow strip of rock. The Screaming Death just crashed straight through the rock without even slowing. "And he's hard-headed…but you can outmanoeuvre him." His green eyes glittered as Toothless's ear-flaps twitched. "Let's use his size against him, hmm?"

The dragon warbled as dust swirled in their eyes and another roar echoed back from the steep walls, making Hiccup's head spin as well. His quick eyes found what he was looking for-a dark entrance in the rusted sandstone of the Badlands around Berk. Leaning, he directed the Night Fury towards the entrance to the cave system, seeing it would be very tight for the Screaming Death…but if it chose not to follow, at least it bought them breathing space…

Then the entire mountain shook as the Screaming Death slammed in through the cave mouth, roaring as it came. The furious scarlet eyes locked on the fleeing black shape as Hiccup craned his neck and saw the monster still on his tail.

"Seriously?" he exclaimed. "Oh, come _on_! How are you following?" Toothless ducked under a dip in the ceiling and he pressed himself low over the Night Fury's neck, realising that Toothless was flying very fast into almost pitch darkness. Occasional patches of green luminescence were scatted like lone stars in a cloudy night but Toothless didn't slow, occasionally giving a high-pitched roar that Hiccup felt in the base of his skull. And behind him, over the rush of wind as they zoomed and cornered in the darkness, he heard the roar and crash of the Screaming Death as it barged through the narrowing tunnels.

And suddenly they entered a chamber which was half-filled with water-and no other way out. Toothless backwinged furiously as Hiccup snapped his head round and stared as the huge White Dragon. There was a crack in the roof that allowed a sliver of light to penetrate the dimness, though there was probably a hundred feet of rock above them. Toothless spun as the Screaming Death roared and fired at them…

…but they dodged and Toothless fired back, eyes narrowed and aim perfect. The enemy lunged forward at them, but the smaller dragon zipped past him and watched him slam into the opposite wall, stunning himself. Swiftly, Hiccup tugged the Night Fury round and pointed up.

"Drop that on him, Bud! See him get out of that!" he shouted as the black dragon sent an enormous plasma bolt up, punching through the roof and sending the entire chamber shaking…and then huge blocks of rust orange sandstone began to drop, slamming into the stunned Screaming Death. Hiccup threw Toothless around as the Night Fury began to fly up, spinning and weaving as the roof of the chamber, hundreds of tons of rock, collapsed on the two dragons. The Screaming Death was roaring in rage as Hiccup was brushed by a chunk of rock, bruising his shoulder as Toothless drew in his wings and spun as he climbed. The sky was yawning above them, the light almost within touching distance…

…and then a rock slammed into Hiccup's side and he gave a despairing cry…


	29. Protect His Own

**Twenty-Nine: Protects his own**

The twins and Fishlegs made the Plaza as the army finished preparing the town. The Marshals looked up as the dragons zoomed over…swooping in to land by the former Berserker Compound.

"They're coming!" Fishlegs whimpered.

"It was awesome!" Tuff shouted. "The Gronckles knocked everybody off their dragons!" There was cheering.

"But they got back on and are coming right behind us!" Ruff admitted,

"Bring them on!" Gustav shouted proudly. "I'm a Hofferson! We fear nothing!" There was more wildly optimistic cheering as Astrid walked to his side and rested his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Except losing each other," she told him firmly. "You're here to defend the people who are sheltering with us, Gustav. Hiccup is relying on us. I am relying on you!" She paused and hugged him. "Make me proud," she added in a whisper.

"Yes, sis," Gustav said in a reluctant voice. "Come on, Hookie! We can show them how awesome you are later!"

"They're on me tail!" Gobber shouted as Grump whirred in and landed in a sprawl. Leo walked up, smartened up and minus one sling, still fastening a gunbelt round his narrow waist as the blacksmith scrambled from his dragon. "LEO!" he bellowed and threw a relieved hug around the other man. Crushed and almost unable to breathe, Leo patted the big blacksmith's arm.

"Need…air…!" he gasped and Gobber finally released him with an embarrassed grin.

"Good tae have ye back!" he said cheerfully. "Yer know, I've missed yer?" Leo nodded.

"I've you too-you crazy bastard!" he admitted, sighing. "So…Alvin again…" Gobber grabbed his shoulder and he whined in pain: it was the shoulder with the bullet-hole in. "GOBBER! Are you trying to kill me?"

"Nah…distract you…" he grinned without shame or apology. "Yer okay?" Leo nodded.

"Gotta be…or everyone dies," he said grimly, fishing out his pistol and rapidly sliding bullets into the chambers. "Just…promise me one thing, Gobber. If it looks like we aren't gonna win, don't let me be taken by him again?" His eyes were serious, a cold desperation lurking in the remaining emerald orb. "Promise me you'll finish me before that happens?" Gobber stiffened, his eyes staring in pity at the plea and the horror that lay behind it…and then he finally nodded.

"Yer have my word," he sighed as he heard roars echoing towards them. "Head up, laddie! Brace yerself!" Leo whistled through his teeth and Star scampered to his side, growling. The Flightmare didn't like other dragons much and he could sense the fear in his rider. Astrid walked to his side, smiling.

"Please watch my brother," she murmured. He nodded and pointed to a spot with good cover.

"I'll watch you both," he said firmly. "Gustav because you asked me…and you because my nephew would expect it. Now stand back: the soldiers and the townsfolk will meet the attack. Our job is as last line of defence to protect these people!" She huffed at him.

"I'm a Hofferson…I should protect my town!" she protested. "We protect our own!"

"And I'm going to lock you up or have Star paralyse you if you try," Leo told her shortly. "Protect her people. Buildings can be rebuilt-people cannot!" _Believe me, I know…_

"HERE THEY COME!" Olson yelled as the Armourwing with Drago on his back and his army of riders…along with Alvin and his men on Whispering Deaths…stormed into the town.

"FIRE!" Sergeant Knutsen shouted and the Nadder cavalry aimed and fired their rifles at the attackers. Behind them, their Nadders lined up and fired a ferocious blizzard of spines, cutting down a handful of dragons and attackers…but Drago's armoured dragon shrugged the attack off and roared…and then poured flames down onto the defenders. Their Nadders crouched over the soldiers, protecting them, but the distraction allowed Drago's forces to close to combat range. And then the crack of bullets and the screams and roars filled the air.

The townsfolk were falling back behind the General Store and Astrid could see Lars firing steadily, flanked by a Sven and Drunken Olaf. Someone had actually given Olaf a gun-something Stoick had been adamantly against-and the man was swigging from a bottle of mead when a stray bullet ricocheted off the sign and shattered his bottle. The town drunk stared at the empty glass neck in his hand, screamed and snatched his gun, shooting three of Drago's men dead straight off.

"Can't a man even have a medishinal drink around her?" he shouted angrily, fishing a flask from his back pocket and taking a long pull. "Aaah! Much better."

Larson and Arvidson were up on their Nightmares, meeting the enemy in the air and dodging and firing efficiently while Olson was directing the battle from the ground. The soldiers were falling steadily and there had been casualties among the defenders as well…but Astrid's eyes widened as an orange and brown Monstrous Nightmare raced past her and into the fray.

"HOOKFANG! FOR BERK!" Gustav shouted.

"GUSTAV!" Astrid screamed, turning and making for Stormfly-but Leo was quicker, grabbing her and hauling her back. He shoved her into Gobber's arms, his face suddenly calm.

"Hold her!" he shouted, leaping onto Starlight. "Okay, Star…time to fight for what's ours!" And with a roar, the Flightmare shot up into the air. Astrid struggled fiercely.

"Let me _go_!" she shouted. "No! He can't hope to stop them!" Gobber stared at her…and shook his head reluctantly.

"But he could rescue your brother," he murmured, seeing the glowing dragon spin and dive under a volley of rifle-fire. Astrid shook her head.

"He'll be killed!" she said despairingly. "And where is Hiccup?"

oOo

The impact all but knocked the Sheriff from the dragon's saddle and somehow, he managed to keep his foot jammed on the tail control pedal, through his side was agonising and breathing was more painful than he could have imagined. Toothless rolled inwards, gently throwing his rider back onto the saddle as his wings pumped and they dodged through the last few yards of falling rock…and then they were out into the clear sky, an enormous orange dust cloud erupting and enveloping them. Coughing, grimacing in pain at the act and breathing hard from sheer adrenaline overload, Hiccup stared down into the cavernous space below him, shattered blocks of rock haphazardly piled amid the rolling dust.

"Let's hope that holds him," he sighed and pulled Toothless round. "Now let's get back to Berk, Bud! I doubt either of them will have honoured the deal. I hope you've got some ideas because I'm out!"

Toothless warbled as he accelerated up over the ridge and down to the town of Berk, seeing flashes of explosions and dragons rising and swooping above the houses. Hand automatically reaching for the rifle, Hiccup snatched it and leaned to his left, taking Toothless in a barrel roll as the pair shot into Berk, the high pitched whistle of the Night Fury causing everyone to freeze…

…and then Toothless fired plasma blast after plasma blast into the attackers as they rolled…and as they came out of the roll, Hiccup blasted away with his rifle, each shot lethal. A dozen men fell from his first rifle, thirteen from his second before he tossed the Winchesters aside and swooped round, firing away and driving Drago's troops back.

Gustav raced by, almost knocking him from the saddle and he swore vividly, ducking a volley of shots as the boy swooped again, whooping. Flipping round, Hiccup stared after him-and then felt a surge of relief as the glowing dragon with the familiar lean shape swooped round to intercept. Gustav gave a scream as a bola brought the Monstrous Nightmare down…and men began to close on the struggling boy. But Star whizzed over, releasing his paralysing mist and freezing man and dragon alike. Spinning on a wingtip, they swooped down and grabbed the bound and frozen boy and dragon with Hiccup and the defenders covering them. Leo dumped the pair among the cages and leapt down, grabbing a knife and sawing the boy free, then hauling him off the dragon. Without hesitation, he slapped Gustav hard.

"Owww!" the boy protested, blinking and raising a hand to his cheek.

"For once, do as you are told!" Leo shouted at him. "You almost got yourself, your dragon, me, Star, Hiccup and Toothless killed. You have a damned job here-so DO IT! Is that clear?" The boy looked up in shock and nodded, cowed.

"Sorry," he mumbled, then looked up as Astrid raced to his side, staring at him…then giving him a big hug.

"I am so mad at you!" she said, hugging him. "Just watch over the other kids, okay?" He nodded, embarrassed.

"S-sorry, sis," he mumbled. "I-I just wanted to help…" She stroked his face.

"Then help Gobber protect the Compound…while I go and help Hiccup…" she said and glanced up…to see Leo and Star already in the air, hovering protectively in front of the half-demolished wall. Alvin and his men were advancing inexorably towards the ruined house, the shushing of their Whispering Deaths audible even over the gun battle raging at the far end of the Plaza. Astrid raced forward, pulling her pistol and covering them as they closed on Leo. Alvin's dark eyes widened in shock at the man facing him.

"Well, bless me! I thought yer was dead!" he exclaimed. "But 'ere yer are…well, some of yer…" Leo's face tightened.

"Hilarious, Alvin," he shouted. "But you failed…and this time, I've got my dragon and you haven't sneaked up behind me and clubbed me unconscious! You don't have me bound and helpless!"

"That can be arranged!" he sneered, seeing the flash of uncertainty on his face. "Yer know this town is mine now, Leo! The Sheriff is dead and yer can join 'im soon enough! Just surrender and I'll be merciful!"

"Like you were to me? To my sister? To my nephew?" Leo shouted, rising slowly on Star. "You know what dragon this is?"

"A useless one," Alvin sneered. Don't see 'im shooting no fire!" Leo smiled and leaned forward.

"Hear that, Star?" he murmured. "You wanna let that one go?"

Starlight roared and a mist sprayed fiercely over the opposing dragons. Alvin jerked his Whispering Death sideways but his men froze and all fell from the sky. With a roar, Alvin charged at the glowing dragon and Star dinked sideways, though the whip-like tail of the Whispering Death opened a raw weal in Star's flank. Instantly, the dragon rose, glowing so fiercely that he was like a star in the gathering twilight. Of course, Lars' store was now on fire, casting much-needed light across the Plaza but Alvin found his dragon shying from the Flightmare. With a roar, he drew his pistol and fired wildly at the dragon and rider.

And then a huge roar shook through the Plaza, swiftly followed by an enormous white shape with glowing red eyes and a long spined tail. Hiccup's head snapped round and he groaned. "Does this guy never give up?" he protested as Toothless snapped round, roaring a challenge. But the Screaming Death accelerated and the Night Fury shot upwards, looping the loop over the town before accelerating downwards…with the Screaming Death in hot pursuit. Toothless pulled up at the last minute, his paws and wingtips actually kissing the dust of the Plaza as he raced by with Hiccup almost lying flat on his back…but the Screaming Death hit with an impact that shook the entire town, causing the front of the Berserker house to completely fall off and Lars's burning store to collapse.

Instantly, Drago charged Toothless and his Armourwing slammed into the Night Fury, knocking the rider from the saddle. Hiccup curled up and though he hit the ground hard, he rolled and avoided serious injury…though Toothless fell from the air by him. Immediately, Drago's dragon fired ferociously at him, the flames boiling off the fireproof hide of the dragon and the wings wrapped protectively around his rider. But the cloth of the tail and the fine wires burned away and grounded the black dragon as he roared furiously at the enemy. Drago roared and pointed with his hook-and men and dragons surged forward at the vulnerable pair.

Then a blue shape raced over with a squawk, pistol firing as Stormfly knocked half a dozen attacking dragons sideways and Astrid winged four men surrounding her boyfriend. She swooped round and charged another pair, slashing them with the Nadder's claws. "Stormfly-spine shot!" she shouted and the blue Nadder accurately impaled another three men and dragons boxing Hiccup in. A Monstrous Nightmare rose, intervening between her and a scarlet and yellow Nadder that rose behind her, planning a lethal sneak attack. Marshal Olson gasped as he took the spines meant for Astrid…then fell dead to the dirt.

Star swooped low over the Plaza, the Flightmare misting the men surrounding his nephew as Alvin's dragon closed in hot pursuit. They pulled up wildly as shots cracked around Leo. Starlight roared in pain as three holes were punched in his wings…and then they folded and he fell from the sky, dropping away from Alvin and diving under the Whispering Death before opening his wings and gliding through. Before Alvin could react, Star had shot up, wings pumping as his rider snatched his pistol in his intact right hand. Two shots to the eyes took out the Whispering Death…and before Alvin could react to the death of his dragon, Leo lined up and fired, the rest of the pistol emptied into his chest. The big man stared at Leo for a long, disbelieving moment.

"But I took yer trigger finger!" he mouthed. Leo gave a small, grim smile, raising both his hands as if in surrender, his maimed left hand displayed alongside the right-still clutching the gun.

"Got two," he said coldly as Alvin fell from the saddle and sprawled dead on the ground, his lifeless dragon landing beside him. Breathing heavily, Leo landed Star and stared at the man who had haunted his nightmares for twenty years.

"That's for you, Val," he whispered.

The Armourwing poured a river of metal-melting fire onto Hiccup but Toothless jumped forward, wrapping his wings around the man, then lifting his head and giving a roar of fury. Suddenly, a blue glow started in his throat and spread down his spine and along his wings. He roared again and every other dragon suddenly roared back, eyes fixed on the black dragon. Hiccup stared at his friend, astonished as Toothless rose to his feet and sat back on his haunches, roaring. Every other dragon landed, all eyes fixated on the Night Fury now. And then the dragons all dipped forward in a bow.

"WHAT?" Drago roared, kicking his dragon and roaring-but the Armourwing completely ignored him. Hiccup gave a small smile as he reached for his gun-and then a scream had him turning and running to one side. Astrid had been hauled from her docile and mesmerised Nadder and was being held helplessly one of Drago's men, a huge bald specimen with muscles like melons and a flat, cruel face. A knife was pressed to her neck. Hiccup heard the click of a gun as he turned and saw Drago lifting his own gun.

"Let her go!" the Sheriff growled.

"Release my dragons!" the Outlaw demanded.

"It's an Alpha glow," Fishlegs squeaked from the doorway of his shop with the twins. "Toothless is an Alpha, a dragon capable of commanding all dragons. And they cannot disobey him…"

"He must have unconsciously accessed the power when he needed to protect his friend and had no other means," Leo realised. "He did it for Hiccup!"

"Did you know you could do this?" Hiccup muttered to the Night Fury. Toothless rolled his eyes, still glowing fiercely. The small warble was no answer.

"Then we can make a deal," Drago growled. "The dragon for your girl! I need a dragon that can command all others…"

"And that is why you can't have him!" Hiccup said, his hand on the grip of his own pistol.

"Then you need to find another girl…" Drago sneered, his eyes flicking to his man. "Veiran-if you will…"

"WAIT!" Hiccup's voice was urgent.

"And so you give away your advantage!" Drago sneered.

"I am the Sheriff-everyone is my responsibility," he said clearly. "Be a man, Drago. Face me…for Toothless and the town."

Astrid shook her head, feeling the cold metal bite against her skin. "No, babe! Don't!" she moaned.

"Accepted!" Drago growled, walking forward and holstering his pistol. His powerful right hand hovered millimetres from his own gun. "On three…"

His men and the townsfolk all raced back, the Berkians swiftly reloading their weapons in preparation as they watched. Larson paused and an obscure scrap of intelligence came to him. He raced forward to the Sheriff and clasped his shoulder.

"Good luck," he murmured in a low voice, staring into the bright emerald eyes. "I hope you're as quick as I've seen before. But remember, Drago has never lost a duel…" And he leaned forward. "…because he always fires on 'two'," he breathed and then turned away. Hiccup gave no sign that he had heard, his face impassive as the Marshal withdrew to stand by his one surviving comrade.

"ONE…" Drago announced. Astrid stared at the two men and began to pray. Toothless intensified his glow, making sure every dragon was still. Gobber narrowed his eyes as he stood up and stared at the confrontation. Leo's hand started very slowly to curl around his pistol. Drunken Olaf gently fell over.

"TWO…"

There was the simultaneous sound of two shots. Hiccup felt a white-hot pain in his side but his own pistol was still reverberating in his hand…and he could see the circular hole right over the Outlaw's heart. Drago's dark, dead eyes stared, uncomprehending…

…the sound of two shots echoed as Leo finished Veiran and he fell away, dead, releasing Astrid. The remaining soldiers, Marshals and townspeople of Berk instantly covered the remaining outlaws and Outcasts, stunned by the death of both their leaders…

"…but how…?' Drago breathed. "I had you beaten…I never lose…I am Deathbringer…"

"A Sheriff Protects his own." The words echoed up and down the Plaza.

…and Drago finally pitched to the ground with a dull thud. Hiccup looked up and saw Astrid, safe.

"Berk…is saved," he breathed with utter relief. "Milady…I hope you have room for some more dragons…"


	30. EPILOGUE: The Man You Want Is Dead

**Epilogue: The man you want is dead…**

The gritty wind swirled around the lone man who stared across the plaza, seeing the crumpled shape of Drago, the gun spilling from his dead hand, his sightless dark eyes staring at the tall shape facing him. Hiccup grimaced and took a staggering step forward before a knee gave way and he crumpled to the the ground, his hands slamming against the dirt. He took a couple of shuddering breaths, each agonising as his sight blurred.

"HICCUP!" Astrid screamed as she sprinted across the Plaza towards the crumpled shape. Hiccup lifted his pale face, his eyes softening with relief as he saw her run towards him. His pale lips moved in a soundless prayer of relief.

"Astrid," he breathed. "Milady…"

Toothless roared and all the dragons backed down, bowing they heads submissively to the Night Fury that sat straight on his haunches, the blue glow running along his dorsal spines, wings and in his mouth. Hiccup's mouth quirked up in an appreciation of his friend. "Bud…you never cease to amaze me," he murmured dryly as Astrid wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back. wincing and cringing as she jostled his wound and his bruised chest. She stared down and her eyes widened in horror.

"Oh my Gods, you're wounded!" she exclaimed. Leo snapped round, holstering his pistol and motioning to the soldiers to make sure the remaining outlaws and outcasts were properly restrained.

"He got you?" he said in a worried voice, his eyes narrowing and flicking over his nephew. He crouched down, laying a concerned hand on the man's shoulder. "Show me…" Hiccup lifted his right hand, the palm scarlet with blood from the wound in his right side.

"There's a lot of blood," Astrid murmured as the older man lifted his head.

"Get Gothi!" he shouted urgently. Gobber and Fishlegs worriedly headed for their dragons to go fetch the Elder from her home on Raven's Point Butte as Hiccup gave a small smile.

"'sokay…" he murmured. "Look…I've ended both gangs and the outlaw Drago and saved Berk…" He gave his lopsided smile. "Not bad for a man who died twenty years ago…"

"Hang in there, Hiccup…" Leo murmured, glaring at his friends as Astrid hugged him closer, her arms more or less holding him up.

"Oh no…you are NOT leaving me, Mr Skinny!" Astrid growled, gripping him even tighter. His head was lolling, soft hair brushing her cheek.

"Still… _Sheriff_ Skinny…" he mumbled, his eyes rolling back in his head…and then he pitched senseless onto his face.

oOo

The clean-up was in full swing with the twins expertly collecting and fitting men to the coffins they had prepared…but they had to work hard to create far larger than usual coffins for Alvin and Drago were both enormous specimens, fully the equal of the late Sheriff Stoick Haddock in size…and the twins for once needed to recruit all the help they could get the manoeuvre and bury the Outcast and Outlaw. In the end, both men were squeezed right into the furthest corner of the cemetery, far away from the honoured graves of the Haddock family…including the one who was still alive…for the moment…

The spare dragons had posed more of a problem, because Whispering Deaths were very difficult to handle and Leo was not surprisingly very wary around the dragoons that had maimed him. And he felt it was cruel to keep them in cages anyway. His solution had been simple: release them back into the mine.

"They're not pets, they're difficult to train and they could munch their way through the mountains for a century without making any sort of a dent," he had told Fishlegs and the younger Dragon Master had considered the options and agreed. But the Screaming Death had proven more of an issue, for it had finally woken from its horrendous crash but with two broken wings. It had set fire to the remains of Lars' General Store-much to his annoyance-and stampeded around the Plaza, demolishing the gallows, which no one had been unhappy about. Finally, Gustav had noticed that the remaining Whispering Deaths had clustered around the huge white dragon and had been feeding and helping it.

"Isn't it just one of them…but different?" he asked simply. Fishlegs stared and Leo face-palmed.

"Yes," Fishlegs admitted, staring into the red eyes…then walking forward, his head ducking down and pudgy hand extending to hover inches from the enormous fangs. There had been an awkward pause…and then the Screaming Death had briefly pressed his nose into Fishlegs's palm. Leo had raised an eyebrow.

"I'm impressed," he admitted.

"Oh Thor…how many hands have I got left?" Fishlegs squeaked.

"Two…" Gustav grinned as the husky man worriedly opened his eyes and stared into the Screaming Death's face.

"Hello," he said nervously. "I know you don't really want to be here and there's nothing in Berk you really want…we've only got sandy dirt under here and no fish…so maybe we could just let your family take you home?" The creature gave a growl. "We will leave the mines alone if you leave us alone. Deal?"

There was a pause and then the monster roared, the impact of the sound bouncing Fishlegs ten yards across the Plaza against the haberdashery shop. Leo uncovered his ears and shouted to the younger man as the Whispering Deaths carried the injured dragon out of Berk-permanently. Temporarily deafened and concussed, Fishlegs raised an arm with a thumb up.

"I-I'm okay!" he shouted blearily and promptly fainted.

Once the dragon issue was sorted, the twins had concentrated on finishing their clear-up. They had rounded up and organised the remaining dead Outlaws and they were almost done when Ruff paused, hammering the lid down on a coffin and frowned.

"You realise he's only gone and put us out of business!" she complained. Tuff frowned stupidly, hammering a crude name-plate onto the lid.

"What?" he mumbled. Ruff sighed.

"Ryder…Hiccup…whatever," she explained with forced patience, twirling the hammer in her hand. "Think about it. Dagur and his lunatics are gone. Alvin and the Outcasts are gone. Drago is dead. There is no one here now to call the border scum and the gunslingers. There won't be people gunned down all the time. What are we gonna do?"

Tuff hit himself in the face with the hammer while he thought and then sighed.

"Well, we can always find something else to do," he said. "I mean everyone dies so we won't be totally out of a job…but we're handy with a saw and a hammer so maybe we can go into construction?"

"But I have no idea how long any of our stuff lasts!" Ruff protested. "I mean, we bury it so we have no clue if it breaks after a week…or is still going years later!"

"There's only one way to find out," Tuff said with a wild look in his eyes. "Dearest sister-we must conduct a scientific experiment…"

"Oh Loki…" Ruff groaned, imagining them sneaking round the graveyard and digging up various previous clients to check the state of their coffins. "What did you have in mind?" Fortunately, Tuff walked to the fence and gestured to the half-wrecked building at the end of the Plaza.

"We help Astrid Hofferson rebuild her home…so she has somewhere to live with her brother and her dragons and her awesome boyfriend…"

"And we showcase our Gods-given abilities to create as well as destroy…" Ruff said in relief, her eyes lighting with enthusiasm. Tuff frowned.

"LOKI!" he groaned, face-palming. "I knew there was something we forgot. We never blew anything up…" Ruff's eyes widened in shock and she hit herself in the face with her hammer.

"You're right," she slurred drunkenly. "Jus'…jus' better try better n-next time…"

And then she slumped over the coffin. Tuff sighed. "That's it!" he said to the dragons in the yard. "I'm not starting work on my own." And he promptly knocked himself out as well.

oOo

The room was dim and cool, the lean shape wrapped in a patched knitted blanket and a large sheepskin as the small, bowed shape moved slowly, leaning on her staff as she bathed the deep wound in his side. The limp shape gave a soft hiss, writhing in pain as the old woman soothed a thick paste into the wound, then slowly and carefully eased out the bullet. Her claw-like hand inspected the bullet then probed the wound to check there was no debris…before sealing the wound and staunching the bleeding. But as she turned away, the patient slowly rocked his head to allow pain-filled emerald eyes to glance at her.

"Have you done?" he croaked, his voice hoarse with pain. She nodded silently, her hand gently caressing his gaunt cheek, before pressing a bowl to his lips and helping him swallow the foul-smelling potion that would soon ease his discomfort. Eyes dark with pain, tendrils of auburn hair dark against his sweat-drenched ashen face, he gripped her hand. "Thank…you…" he breathed and passed out again.

oOo

He awoke much, much later, feverish and light-headed, his breathing a little harsh and rasping. He whined softly and pressed a hand to his bandaged wound as he heard a worried croon from the far side of the room-where faithful Toothless was waiting. His blurred vision picked out the shape, the big worried eyes and he felt a surge of warmth and security well in his chest at the sight of his bonded dragon waiting for him. He closed his eyes again, allowing his body to relax. Then a gentle hand softly wiped the sweat from his pained face, the cool cloth easing his aching head. His eyelids fluttered and his dazed emerald eyes opened again-to see a familiar beautiful face and piercing azure eyes meeting his own gaze. Her fingers trailed gently over his flushed cheek.

"Milady," he whispered and her lips curled up in a relieved smile.

"You had me worried, babe," she murmured, wiping his feverish face with her comfortingly cool cloth once more. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment but his hot hand rose to shakily press against her cool cheek.

"Me? Be on my feet in no time…" he rasped. She smiled again, pressing her cheek against his hand.

"My love, you've been out of it for five days!" she told him and his eyes widened in confusion.

"WHAT?" he choked in shock. She caught his hand and kissed it softly.

"You've been very sick with fever after your wound," she told him softly. "But Gothi is much more positive now…" He frowned, fighting through the fog of the last few days and finding nothing but dark dreams and frightening images and nothing coherent.

"Oh…" he murmured. "The town?" She burst out laughing.

"So…the town, eh? Not me or Toothless or Leo?" she teased him. He frowned, trailing his fingers through her hair.

"You're here, I can hear Toothless and you would've told me if there was anything wrong with Leo," he told her calmly and she punched his shoulder lightly. He whined in pain. "Is everything violence with you?" he asked as she lunged forward, urgently pressing her lips to his. His arm wound around her neck and they kissed passionately for a long moment. "Much better," he sighed after she finally straightened up, running her fingers through his hair.

"Things have happened," she admitted lightly, though her tone wasn't worried. "The twins have moved into home renovations…" Hiccup frowned, feeling disorientated again.

"The twins? That's where you're going? _Twins_?" he asked her in surprise. She gave a small chuckle.

"Well, they're guessing there won't be anywhere near as many funerals as they are used to so they'll need something else to occupy their time," she reported. "Their first project…is the house…" she reported.

"The Berserker House? That ruin?" Hiccup frowned and rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache trying to keep up with the news.

"Yup. They're rounded up a couple of Svens, Mulch, Gobber…even Gustav's helping…they want to rebuild the house so…um… _we_ have a home…" Her voice was embarrassed. His eyes crinkled in a smile.

"We?" he teased her.

"Yeah…they seem to think…that we're a couple…or something…" she mumbled, her eyes sliding to the ground. Her hands drew back and she folded them ashamedly on her lap. He gritted his teeth, bracing his hand by his body and managing to push himself to a sitting position, his head spinning as he changed position for the first time in days. He took a breath, shook his head and then gently placed a finger under her chin and lifted it so he could look gently into her eyes.

"People in Berk don't have any tact, do they?" he commented roughly but she remained still and stiff. "Hmm…Gobber was involved, wasn't he?" She nodded finally.

"They don't really understand what happened while I was a prisoner there…" she mumbled but he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips.

"I do," he reminded her, "and though I know how hard it was for you, it doesn't worry me, Astrid. Because I'm in love with you….and when you love someone, you love all of them…their past, present and future. And I know I absolutely have far more baggage and darkness in my past than you ever could, Milady…but if you could maybe one day forgive that…then-then I would want to ask you…if you would become my wife? I-I don't have much to offer you…except my rapier wit, of course…but maybe…one day…would you consider it?"

Her blue eyes flicked up in surprise and saw the genuine concern in the emerald depths. _The love._ And she blinked hard against the sudden burning tears…

"Of course, I can understand if I'm too damaged and you want someone better," he told her softly, the faint hint of resignation in his tone rending her heart. "Hel, you deserve someone far better than me. But I do love you and I think we kind of met each other in some of our worst times…and I just wonder if maybe…possibly…you wanted to make some better times together…"

Tears were trickling down her cheeks now, gentle sobs shuddering through her. He tenderly wiped a tear from her cheek and sighed.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, his shoulders slumping. "Forget I…"

"Yes." The sound was barely above a whisper but he stiffened and his eyes widened in shock.

"M-Milady?"

"Yes," she managed a little more strongly. "Yes, please. I want to marry you…my skinny, sarcastic, brilliant gunslinging, dragon-taming, brother-rescuing, town-protecting Sheriff."

He gave a shuddering sigh and a smile lifted his lips.

"Well, that's a relief," he murmured before she flung herself on him and kissed him senseless.

oOo

Half the town turned out to see them return to Berk two days later when Gothi had finally cleared him to fly. He had protested against the restriction because he had flown before in far worse shape…but as his side pulled almost unbearably as Toothless eagerly banked and swooped, he appreciated the advice from the expert. There were cheers and whooping and somehow Barf'n'Belch managed to create an overhead explosion that had everyone ducking but acted as a sort of fireworks welcome to the returning hero.

"Guys, cool it-it's just me," Hiccup had said in a self-conscious tone. Gustav had flung himself at Hiccup and hugged him and Leo and Gobber had swiftly followed, though the big blacksmith had almost snapped the lean gunslinger in half with his huge embrace. Leo had grinned broadly.

"I couldn't be more proud," he murmured and Hiccup had hugged him, grateful to his only remaining member of family. "And the House is coming along nicely…though the entire inside has been gutted…since the twins decided neither of you wanted an accurate reminder of the former owners…" Sharing a swift look with his fiancee, the Sheriff had nodded.

"That's for sure," he mumbled.

"And who knew Tuff had a real flair for interior design?" Leo told him. Hiccup stared at him in shock.

"Tuff? Mr lunatic twin?""

"The very same," Leo grinned. "Though he tends to like purple brocade a lot…not sure how come there is so much of it in Berk but anyway…well, you'll see…" Casting Astrid a worried look-as neither wanted to live in a purple-swathed boudoir-Hiccup rubbed the back of his neck.

"Maybe we should perhaps look over the renovations?" he suggested but Leo gave a grin.

"Not a hope," he warned his nephew. "He won't let anyone in." Then he paused. "We thought you could maybe stay at the Hostel until the house was done up…unless you want to move into Stoick's House…?" As he had expected, Hiccup instantly shook his head.

"I need to go there and look through his things…maybe garner what memories I can…but not now," he mumbled. "It's all a bit much to take in, to be honest…"

"Which was just what we thought, babe," Astrid reassured him. "So we've got a room for you upstairs." He glanced at the building and sighed. It would do…but he had really hoped to spend some time with Astrid… He nodded and absently walked forward, through the saloon doors…into a neat, tidy and clean room with the tables polished and soft furnishings clean and pressed. He frowned, walked back out again, inspected the sign then walked back into the saloon.

"Yeah, it's bin cleaned," Gobber grumbled. "I ne'er knew Leo was as pernickety as yer about all this tidiness malarky…"

"Yeah-you should've heard him when he went into the kitchen when he moved in," Gustav grinned. "He screamed like a girl!"

"Not like a girl!" Leo pointed out.

"You did scream though!" Gustav ribbed him.

"There was stew on the ceiling! And the pans had tar welded onto them!" Leo protested.

"Ah. That's where I get it from!" Hiccup grinned. Gobber gave them both a sour look.

"Tisnae fair tae make a man scrub his own kitchen three times!" he grumbled. "And I'm banned from cookin' in meh own kitchen!"

"Gobber-if he hadn't done it, I would," Hiccup told him. "You're a threat to public health!"

"You see, dear sister?" Tuff commented from the doorway. "Is there no end to his vindictive desire to completely put us out of business? Now we can't even have people die of eating Gobber's cooking!"

"Actually-you were the one who got stew on the ceiling!" Ruff pointed out.

"That was self-preservation! It was going to attack me…"

A screech outside and a vague rumble of thunder had them all frowning as the Skrill landed in the Plaza. Hiccup snapped around, hissed as he pulled his wound and strode out…to see Drunken Olaf slide off the dragon and caress her gently. She purred.

"OLAF?" he exclaimed. Astrid slid her arm through his.

"Yeah…" she murmured.

"Yer see…the Skrill used to be his dragon…before Dagur stole her and kept her locked in that cage," Gobber explained. "Olaf used tae be our messenger and courier…when nae one would attack a man on a Skrill, would they?"

"Except Dagur," Hiccup guessed.

"And Eret," Gobber added. "Bereft o' his one friend, Olaf…well, he crawled intae a bottle and stayed there…except when the twins keep burying him…"

"NOT OUR FAULT!" came the shout from the saloon.

"And once the Outlaws had gone, Olaf went back and reclaimed his dragon. He's hardly touched a drop since!" Astrid finished as Olaf stumbled over his own feet and ended on his face. The Skrill rolled her acid-yellow eyes and very gently picked him up using her claws. He hugged her and staggered gently across the Plaza, the dragon obediently following him. "Not sure about the courier business though," she added in a low voice.

"This is Berk," Hiccup reminded her. "Anything is possible…" She grinned.

"Speaking of which, let me show you our room…" she suggested. His emerald eyes widened and a smirk lifted his lips.

" _Our_ room?" he echoed. She tried fluttering her eyelashes at him as Leo and Gobber shared a wink.

"Oh yeah…" she said seductively.

"Hold my appointments!" he announced…but a sudden roar had Gobber and Leo glancing up and the blacksmith sighed.

"Yer may want tae reconsider that!" he said grimly as a full troop of Nightmare Cavalry swooped over the Plaza, circled and then landed, backed up by another troop of blue Nadders. Stormfly gave an inquisitive croak and a score of aggressive responses had her lowering her frill meekly. Toothless growled but sat protectively by his friend: he didn't engage his blue glow but he was eyeing the strange dragons very suspiciously as Hiccup walked onto the Plaza and stared at the General who dismounted from his blue and green Monstrous Nightmare, his big blond handlebar moustache ruffled in the breeze as he strode towards the tall, lean auburn-haired man wearing the Sheriff's star. Two dark-haired Colonels dismounted and held his dragon's reins respectfully as he inspected the local lawman.

"General Henryk Haaken, Eighteenth Dragon Cavalry!" he introduced himself. Hiccup shook his hand firmly.

"Sheriff Hiccup Haddock," he replied, his quick green gaze flicking over the assembled army. "Um…to what do we owe this honour?" The Colonel gestured to a familiar black-clad shape on a brown and orange Monstrous Nightmare at his side. Marshal Per Larson gave a tight smile as he leapt from his dragon and landed with a thump by the Colonel's side.

"They've come about the Night Fury," he said.

Everyone stiffened and half a dozen hands dropped to their pistols…but Toothless gave a small croon and rose to his feet, scampering to Hiccup's side and nudging the man just where he had been shot. Hiccup grimaced and then gently caressed his head, his hand lowering to scratch under the chin and earn a loud purr of contentment.

"Yeah, Bud-they're talking about you, aren't they?" he murmured. The General frowned.

"Rumour has it a wild Night Fury was caught in these parts recently," he said. "There certainly was a report…filed by Colonel Jenkins of the Nineteeth Cavalry…before he disappeared…" Hiccup cast a glance at the black dragon, who was almost drooling with contentment, lying on his side and pawing the air happily.

"Hmm…you may have been misled," he admitted dryly. "I mean, my dragon hardly looks wild, does he? You could only get this level of trust and bonding with a dragon raised in captivity since hatching…"

"That's right!" Fishlegs announced, walking forward. "Fishlegs Ingerman, local Dragon Master. These creatures are incredibly difficult to tame and if you don't imprint on them at hatching, it's nigh on impossible…"

"Especially for the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself!" Leo added. "I think there was a man in 1814 who may have managed it…"

"I thought it was 1815?" Fishlegs countered.

"That was a misprint in the Seventeeth Edition. The Sixteenth says 1814," Leo told him with a grin.

"My Uncle is also a registered Dragon Master," Hiccup explained with a grin at the confused expression facing him. "Welcome to Berk!" The General stared at him in shock.

"So you're the Sheriff who ended Alvin and Drago Darkheart's reign of terror? Who captured his gang and turned them over to the Marshals to bring to the capitol for hanging?" he said disbelievingly. His look up and down the tall, lean shape was frankly disparaging. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"Of course…because I look _sooooo_ impressive and intimidating…" he said sarcastically then sighed. "I may've had a little help," he murmured, glancing around his friends and family. Astrid moved to his side and looked smug, her hand finding his. The General gaped.

"A little help? The man has wiped out four troops sent after him in the last two years! By all rights he should have razed this insignificant speck of a town off the map! How on Midgard did you do it?" Hiccup gave a small smug smile.

"We're Vikings," he told them cheerfully. "Crazy is what we do best. My friends, the townsfolk, my girlfriend…and of course, a fistful of dragons were all we needed to beat him…" Larson was chuckling now, his eyes crinkled in amusement. He had received the rewards for Drago and his gang, of course, but he was willing to acknowledge that he hadn't been the man to capture them, just the man charged with bringing them in.

"Of course, the fact that the Night Fury is captive bred and bonded means he belongs to Sheriff Haddock," he pointed out and the General nodded curtly.

"Oh well," he said in resignation. "If you ever feel able to persuade him to help the nation, we would still be very grateful for his help in some captive hybrid breeding programmes…" Hiccup stared at Toothless, who had ambled back to Stormfly and had nuzzled against her affectionately.

"I'll think about it, sir-but I guess he's already found his lady…" he pointed out dryly. "Not sure I can persuade him to go out with some army dragons when he's happy here…"

"AWWWWW!" came the chorus from the saloon. Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"And that dragon-rustler, Ryder? The one you tried to hang?" the General asked Larson.

There was a long moment of silence as the Marshal glanced across at the tall, lean shape, his hand still twined with his girlfriend's, his dragon behind him, his friends around him and the trust of the town evidenced by the star on his chest. Ryder may have been a bad man…but Sheriff Hiccup Gudmundir Haddock deserved a chance…

"I think you'll find, General, that the man you seek, the dragon rustler, died in the conflict with Drago and Alvin the Treacherous," he announced firmly. "The man you want is dead." He looked up. "Isn't that right, Sheriff Haddock?"

There was a twinkle in the Marshal's blue eyes and for a moment, Hiccup paused, then nodded.

"Buried in an unmarked grave somewhere in the cemetery," he added. "Lots of men died in the conflict-the twins were very busy…"

"NOT ANY MORE!" the shout came from the saloon. The General sighed, then reached into his saddle-bag and drew out a scroll.

"This is a Commendation from the Governor for you, Sheriff," he announced. "In gratitude for your service and heroism in the defence of this town." Hiccup accepted it warily as cheers broke out around him. Gustav was punching the air and the twins butted heads and promptly knocked themselves out. Astrid grinned then stole a quick kiss on the cheek. Instantly, he swung her round to reply with a much deeper, more passionate effort on the mouth and the chorus of 'oohs' and whistles echoed round the Plaza. The General coughed to try to interrupt them.

"Thank you," Hiccup said, nodding. The General grinned but the intended recipient of the words-Larson-merely nodded.

"I guess there won't be much call for Marshals to visit Berk now…with such a heroic Sheriff," he smirked.

"I can only hope," Hiccup sighed as the party mounted up. With a shout, they all took off and shot into the cloudless sky, their wings wrapping the whole Plaza in dust.

"Wow, they sure know how to make an entrance and exit!" Gustav said in awe as everyone else coughed and choked until the dust settled.

"How does it feel to be dead?" Astrid asked Hiccup and he grinned at her.

"No different," he admitted. "I mean, I've been dead for twenty years already so being dead twice over seems to have no noticeable effect…" Then she punched him on the shoulder. "Oww! Was that really necessary?" he added.

"Just checking," she grinned. "I mean, I don't want you having any excuses for our wedding…"

"Wedding?" Gobber asked, grinning broadly. "Ah can see it now…the reception in meh saloon…"

"Congratulations," Leo said more practically, shaking Hiccup's hand and smiling at his nephew's horrified expression then pecking a quick kiss on Astrid cheek. She grabbed his hand.

"Thank you," she murmured. He smiled.

"He'll be fine," he reassured her. "I've been dead for twenty years as well…but I think you couldn't have chosen a better man. And I know he has got the girl he loves. I'm sure you'll have a long and happy future together."

oOo

The big day had dawned bright and dry and warm and everyone was invited or had invited themselves. The Plaza was done up with bunting in whatever colours the people of Berk could find-basically all of them in no particular order-and tables laden with food were set up in Gobber's saloon for the reception. Hiccup and Leo had spent the night before at Fishlegs's house so that Astrid could prepare in private as tradition demanded. Hiccup was nervous and had paced from five o'clock when he had woken. Even a long flight on Toothless hadn't calmed his nerves.

"What if it's a disaster?" he had asked. "What if she changes her mind? What if we're incompatible? What if something happens to her because of me? Oh Gods…I can't put her through that…maybe I should call it off and…"

"It'll be fine," Leo groaned from his bed, trying to get some sleep.

"But…"

"HICCUP!" the older man said finally, sitting up and stretching wearily, his long limbs cracking as he did. "You have been kidnapped, raised by a stranger, survived bandits and trappers, seen your first wife murdered, been on the wrong end of the Berserkers, killed Gods-know how many men in gunfights and trained a Night Fury…who has turned out to be an Alpha. I think you can survive a wedding!"

"But…"

"You've even been declared dead twice! I mean even _I_ have only been declared dead once! I'm never getting back to sleep am I?"

"Nor me," Fishlegs grumbled from the third bed. Leo ran his fingers through his messy, grey-streaked auburn hair and yawned.

"We might as well get him ready then," he said. "I mean, if we fail to deliver him to Astrid on time, all three of us will be dead…and there won't be any surviving the wrath of Astrid Hofferson!"

So all three were waiting in the Plaza at noon, decked out in their finest-Fishlegs in his best brown frock coat and pants, a grey cravat at his throat: Leo was in black pants and waistcoat with a rust-red shirt while Hiccup was resplendent in black pants and boots, black waistcoat embroidered in gold (one of Stoick's that Fishlegs had altered) and a green silk shirt. Hiccup was still rambling and Leo was amused to see him so discomposed when he had been so cool when facing his enemies. Without thinking, he grasped his shoulder and leaned close to him.

"Your Heather would approve," he murmured. "She would want you to be happy. And so would my sister…your Mom…and your father." Hiccup nodded, blinking hard and then he took a sighing breath.

"Thanks," he said, looking down at Gothi, who had an amused smile on her face. Gobber was at her side as the saloon doors opened and Astrid emerged, with Gustav in a neat tailored brown suit walking her forward in the place of her father. She was swathed in a fine cream cotton gown that flattered her slender figure with a lace veil overing her face. Her shining golden hair was braided over a shoulder as usual and he could see her bright azure eyes through the veil: she was smiling. Gustav very carefully placed her hand on Hiccup's as he backed away to stand by the best men-Leo and Fishlegs. Gothi raised her hands then began to scratch on the dirt as Gobber-not always accurately-began to read the words of the ceremony.

For once, the people of Berk were silent and respectful as the young couple said their vows, holding hands and staring lovingly into each others' eyes. Rings were exchanged and Astrid smiled up to her husband as Gothi scratched the final line in the dirt.

"I now pronounce you…husband and woof!" Gobber announced.

There was an awkward pause as Gothi whacked him with her staff.

"Ow, yer evil witch, how canna hope to read such terrible scratches?" Gobber protested. "Husband and WIDE!"

"Oh Thor…" Hiccup murmured as Astrid tried to look offended but instead burst into laughter.

"Husband and WIFE!" Gobber realised. "WIFE! That doesnae look like _wife!_ I mean…"

"Just kiss the bride, would you?" Leo hissed. "I think this could go on for a while!"

"Shall we, Milady?" Hiccup grinned and leaned forward to share a passionate kiss with his new wife. Around them, the dragons roared and the skies above the little town of Berk were lit by explosions and fire as the dragons all celebrated the marriage.

"Yes, Sheriff Skinny," she smiled as they finally parted.

"Indeed, Mrs Sheriff Skinny," he replied, glancing around at his friends, his townsfolk and his dragon…his home…before his new wife demanded his attention once more. "Now let's start celebrating," he murmured.

 _This is Berk, the smallest remotest town in most maps of…well, anywhere. Here in the wild and untamed Badlands, we're somewhere under the 'B' if you're looking for us. We're the descendants of Vikings and like our home, we're tough and uncompromising. But we look after our own and we fight for what is ours._

 _I arrived here with no memory of my true family, no home, no friends, a dying Monstrous Nightmare and no purpose but revenge and an early death…but here, though it's been hard and painful and frankly, it's sometimes been no picnic, I have finally found my family, friends, my beautiful and brave and scary wife, a community…and of course, I've found my best bud…my dragon!_

 _I'm home._

 **The End.**

 **.**

 **And so we leave them to get on with their happy ending (unless someone lets Gobber do the cooking-bleurgh!)**

 **.**

 **Acknowledgements (and apologies) to _A Fistful of Dollars, Silverado, Blazing Saddles, A Million Ways To Die In The West_ and _The Outlaw Josey Wales_ for borrowing bits of plot and lines. Hope you enjoyed the story, see you soon!-harrypanther**

 **.**

 **Cast (for those interested)**

 **From 'A Fistful of Dollars'**

The Man with No Name - Hiccup/Ryder

Silvanito - Gobber and Leo

Ramon Rojo - Dagur

Don Miguel Rojo - Savage

Esteban Rojo - Vorg

John Baxter - Alvin

Antonio Baxter - Snotlout

Piripero - Ruffnut and Tuffnut

Marisol - Astrid

Jesus - Gustav

Chico - Bucket

 **Not actually in the film…**

Dragon Trappers - Viggo, Ryker, Eret

Sheriff - Stoick

Dragon Master - Fishlegs

Drago Deathbringer - Drago

Town Elder - Gothi

Townsfolk - Sven, Sven, Sven, Sven, Lars, Mulch, Drunken Olaf


End file.
